ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 


DUNORA 


ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 


BY 


BERTHA  &  ARTHUR  GRIFFITHS 


BOSTON 

RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

THE   GORHAM   PRESS 


COPTBIGHT,  1920,  BY   BEBTHA  J.  GRIFFITHS 


All  Right*  Reserved 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 


The  Gorham  Press.  Boston,  U.  S.  A. 


TO  HER 
THIS   BOOK  IS  DEDICATED 

TO  HER 

WHOM  FOB  LONG  YEARS   I   KNEW  ONLY   IN  MY   DREAMS 

TO  HER 

WHO  BECAME  THE  LIGHT  OF  MY  LIFE,  WHO  BANISHED  DISCOURAGE- 
MENT, GAVE   HOPE,  BROUGHT   BIRTH  TO   INSPIRATION,  AND 
WHO  GAVE  THE   FACTS,  PLOT   AND   INCENTIVE   FOB 
THIS    NOVEL   WHOSE    UNTIRING    ZEAL   AND 
FAITHFUL   HAND    SUPERVISED   AND 
CORRECTED        THIS        WORK 

TO  HER 
MY   WIFE.   BERTHA 


2135970   ' 


FOREWORD 

"Many  giants  great  and  small 
Stalking  through  the  land 
Would  to  earth  be  hurled  down 
If  met  by  Daniel's  Band. 

Dare  to  be  a  Daniel, 
Dare  to  stand  alone, 
Dare  to  have  a  purpose  firm, 
And  dare  to  make  it  known." 

And  that  is  the  purpose  of  One  Wonderful  Rose, 
for  this  book  is  not  written  for  the  dilettante  or  the 
fondled  scion  of  luxury's  contagion.  A  drop  of  ink 
makes  millions  think  and  a  preacher  in  the  pulpit 
is  worth  a  dozen  on  vacation;  therefore  this  abso- 
lutely true  story  of  man's  inhumanity  to  man  is 
told  in  all  its  naked  truth.  If  you  do  not  wish  to 
know  what  has  before  this  been  hidden,  if  you 
do  not  wish  to  know  what  hellhounds  men  can  be 
concerning  an  unprotected  and  innocent  girl,  if  you 
do  not  wish  to  read  the  story  of  one  of  the  noblest 
women  who  ever  walked,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  read 
the  story  of  one  of  the  truest  loves  that  ever  ex- 
isted then  do  not  read 

ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEK  PAGE 

I    CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE 18 

II   THE  MORNING  BREAKS 27 

III  THE  GREAT  PILOT  LEADS 34 

IV  DUNOBA 41 

V   THE  WAIT  AND  THE  RE-MEETING 48 

VI   IN  THE  BEGINNING 55 

VII   THE  WEE  LASSIE 63 

VIII    DUNOBA 's  GIRLHOOD  HOME 71 

IX   DUNORA  FINDS  TRUTH 78 

X   THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL 85 

XI   WHEN  "BAD"  Is  "WORSE" 94 

XII   THE  GREAT  AWAKENING 103 

XIII  THE  UNSEEN  STORM Ill 

XIV  OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD  ALONE 122 

XV   THE  CRT  OF  A  BROKEN  HEART 129 

XVI   HOPELESS  DATS  AND  A  WEABT  ROAD 137 

XVII   THE  HIGHLAND  PASTURE 144 

XVIII   THE  GREAT  PRESENCE 151 

XIX   THE  HOUSE  OF  SILENCE 160 

XX   THE  WEART  ROAD  CONTINUED 168 

XXI   TRIALS 176 

XXII    HER  FIRST  HOME 193 

XXIII  FAREWELL  HELL 206 

XXIV  GLORY  ADVANCES 215 

XXV   THE  PROPOSAL 223 

XXVI   HOME 238 

XXVII   LOVE  RULES  250 


ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 


ONE    WONDERFUL    ROSE 


CHAPTER  ONE 

CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE 

A  TURN  in  the  road,  a  step  to  one  side,  a  pass- 
ing face,  a  sound  of  a  voice  may  be  the  means 
of  changing  a  life  for  time  and  eternity.  The  buy- 
ing of  a  ticket,  the  stepping  out  of  a  car,  the  glance 
of  an  eye,  the  decision  taken  on  the  spur  of  a  mo- 
ment may  lead  to  consequences  which  no  measure 
can  compute.  Upon  merest  lift  of  a  finger  eternal 
destinies  may  be  decided  for  we  are  surrounded  by 
determining  influences  which  will  ripen  into  full 
fruit  when  destiny,  or  you  may  spell  it  with  a  capi- 
tal letter,  decides  that  the  time  has  come  for  your 
life  to  be  changed. 

Let  once  a  life  be  seeking  truth,  and  that  is 
merely  another  way  of  spelling  light,  and  the  oppor- 
tunity will  surely  come  that  will  lead  to  tne  foun- 
tainhead  of  truth  and  the  source  of  light  in  a  de- 
gree dependent  upon  the  sincerity  of  the  desire  for 
truth.  And  it  will  be  one  of  these  trivial  circum- 
stances that  will  prove  to  be  the  fork  of  the  roads 
that  leads  in  the  desired  direction. 

Vir  Noble  was  restless.  He  was  not  so  for  a 
13 


14       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

useless  purpose  though  he  thought  his  restlessness 
due  merely  to  the  summer  season  and  the  human 
longing  for  the  great  out  doors. 

His  work  in  the  city  was  at  that  stage  where  he 
could  take  a  vacation  without  worriment  from  a 
business  standpoint.  But  because  he  could  take  a 
vacation  is  not  a  sure  indication  that  he  would  take 
one  and  he  was  not  usually  over-indulgent  in  the 
matter  of  allowing  himself  periods  of  relaxation. 
Being  inclined  to  giving  himself  up  to  some  degree 
of  mental  speculation,  he  occasionally  lost  himself 
in  the  mazes  of  thought.  This  was  one  of  those 
occasions. 

There  are  those  who  merely  dream,  who  permit 
thought  after  thought  to  chase  themselves  idly 
through  the  brain  in  a  kaleidoscope  of  variegated 
impulses,  and  who  thereby  derive  pleasure,  but  they 
are  obtaining  pleasure  from  a  vacuum,  for  dreaming 
is  a  vacuum  of  ideas.  Vir  Noble  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  dream,  but  his  thinking  was  apt  to  be  con- 
structive or  inquisitive.  The  why  of  events,  the  rea- 
sons for  happenings,  the  purpose  of  conditions  en- 
gaged his  thought.  He  was  therefore  a  seeker  after 
light. 

On  this  warm  and  unusually  tranquil  summer's 
day  a  spirit  of  revolt  against  human  conditions  held 
him.  He  had  been  reading  in  a  news  item  a  sordid 
account  of  a  nature  which  stirred  his  manhood  in 
detestation. 

The  whole  account  brought  up  in  his  mind  a  pic- 
ture of  man's  inhumanity  to  man  and  how  literally 
rotten  to  the  core  was  the  social  system  which  per- 
mitted and  really  condoned  the  preying  of  the 
strong  upon  the  weak,  which  enabled  unscrupulous 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE  15 

persons,  because  of  the  inequality  of  the  division  of 
money,  to  take  advantage  of  the  need  of  others. 

He  expressed  his  thoughts  in  words.  "Oh  surely 
somewhere  on  this  earth  there  must  exist  a  char- 
acter, self  trained,  naturally  noble,  which  has  sur- 
vived the  fires  of  a  harassed  life  and  through  its 
own  inborn  strength  emerged  unscathed.  Such  a 
life  would  be  worth  a  thousand  lives  which  had  been 
shielded  from  every  evil  wind  that  blows  and  such 
a  life  could  be  one  truly  called  a  human  diamond." 

He  paused,  put  his  head  in  his  hands  as  his  el- 
bows rested  on  his  desk.  Remaining  silent  for  a 
time,  buried  in  thought  he  again  spoke  to  himself, 
"It  is  not  the  life  brought  up  amid  the  velvets  that 
is  worth  while  but  the  life  which  has  stood  four 
square  to  every  wind  that  blows  and  emerged  swept 
clean  of  dross  and  sham  by  the  tempests  which 
have  beaten  around  it.  The  diamond  in  its  unpol- 
ished state  is  but  a  lustreless  stone  but  after  the 
hard  grinding  of  the  lapidary's  wheel  it  becomes 
a  brilliant  gem." 

He  turned  from  his  reverie  and  took  out  his 
watch.  The  wonderful  day  of  nature's  smiling 
charms  was  drawing  to  a  close.  "I'll  do  it!"  he 
exclaimed.  The  following  moments  revealed 
what  he  meant  by  his  exclamation  "I'll  do 
it."  He  took  from  its  resting  place  behind 
a  heavy  table  his  capacious  travelling  bag  and, 
rather  strange  to  relate,  opened  two  of  his  desk 
drawers  and  drew  therefrom  sufficient  clothes  to  pre- 
pare for  somewhat  of  a  journey.  Vir,  during  the 
summer  season,  constantly  kept  a  change  of  clothes 
in  his  office  in  case  he  should  suddenly  determine  to 
take  a  journey. 


16       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

In  coming  to  the  quick  decision  to  which  he  came 
and  in  making  the  exclamation  "I'll  do  it!"  Vir 
Noble  had  come  to  a  fork  in  the  road  of  life  and 
had  made  a  decision  which  was  to  bear  wonderful 
fruit.  At  the  time  that  those  momentous  decisions 
come  we  very  infrequently  realize  their  importance. 

With  the  hilarity  of  a  boy  in  his  teens  Vir  jumped 
up  from  his  task  of  packing  his  leather  bag  and 
almost  shouted  "Hurrah!  Off  to  the  wilds  of 
Maine!  What  a  night  for  a  steamer  trip!" 

Oh  surely,  very  surely  there  is  somewhere  a  Power 
which  is  very  kind  to  people  often  who  do  not  re- 
alize that  Power  as  well  as  to  those  who  do.  In  an- 
other spot  not  far  away  from  where  Vir  Noble 
packed  his  travelling  necessities  was  an  individual 
whom  the  wanderlust  had  also  seized  at  that  time. 
Up  to  that  hour  that  life  had  lived — ah,  but  let  us 
refer  to  that  later.  It  were  better  that  this  life 
unfold  its  richness  in  due  season  as  the  rose,  lifted 
on  high  by  its  stem  of  thorns,  unfolds  to  the  wor- 
shipping sun  a  gorgeous  array  of  petals  of  such  con- 
summate beauty  "that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these." 

Down  Broad  Street  of  the  metropolis  of  New 
England  Vir  Noble  walked.  At  Foster's  Wharf  lay 
the  steamer  waiting  to  be  unleashed  and  start  north- 
ward on  its  journey  to  the  rockbound  coast  of  the 
pioneer  State  of  the  North. 

'Neath  the  north  star's  chilly  gleaming, 
Winter's  frost  and  Summer's  prime, 
Ever  stands  thy  stately  emblem, 
State  of  Maine,  thy  hardy  pine. 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE  17 

On  thy  coasts,  storm-bound  and  rocky, 
Roars  the  wild  Atlantic's  might, 
Dashing  spray  and  hurtling  sea  spume 
Greet  the  pole  star's  frosty  light. 

O'er  thy  hills  and  through  thy  forests, 
In  thy  marts  and  on  thy  coasts, 
Walk  "Dirigo's"  north  born  manhood, 
State  of  Maine,  thy  proudest  boast. 

To  Vir  Noble  the  Pine  Tree  State  strongly  ap- 
pealed. Almost  invariably  when  the  vacation  or 
relaxation  spirit  called  he  went  to  the  forests  or 
rock  bound  coast  of  the  American  Lion  of  the 
North. 

"A  ticket  for  Bath,  please,"  Vir  requested  of  the 
purser  as  the  boat  was  about  to  depart,  "and  a 
stateroom  also."  "I  can  only  give  you  an  inside 
room  as  the  outside  ones  are  all  taken."  "Very 
well,"  replied  Vir,  "I  came  late  and,  of  course,  at 
this  season  of  the  year  I  expected  to  find  the  boat 
crowded."  He  found  his  stateroom  about  amid- 
ships on  the  starboard  side.  Ah  Fate,  never  ceas- 
ing leader  of  the  lives  of  men,  did  you  direct  such  a 
small  detail  as  even  the  location  of  that  stateroom 
— and  one  other? 

Noble  made  many  acquaintances,  but  admitted 
only  a  few  within  the  charmed  circle  of  his  inner 
thoughts.  In  a  crowd  of  the  nature  of  that  on  the 
steamer  that  beautiful  evening  he  was  accustomed 
to  roam  around  observing  but  not  necessarily  being 
observed  for  he  was  not  ostentatious.  His  was  a 
singularly  lonely  existence,  for  he  was  yet  to  find  the 
one  who  could  share  his  real  life.  In  a  crowd  he 


18       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

always  felt  more  lonely  than  when  actually  alone, 
for  the  crowd  but  emphasized  his  need  of  a  real 
mate. 

Vir  Noble,  do  you  know  whom  that  other  one  is 
whom  the  restless  spirit  seized  at  the  same  time 
that  it  seized  you?  Do  you  know  that  Fate,  too, 
led  that  one  so  that  your  paths  should  meet  and 
that  that  beautiful  night  marked  by  the  soft  kiss  of 
Summer's  balmy  zephyr  when  Old  Ocean  was  lulled 
to  sleep  by  the  plush  gloved  hand  of  a  mid-summer 
celestial  benediction  should  be  the  time  of  your 
meeting?  One  of  the  great  kindnesses  of  Providence 
is  its  habit  of  thrusting  its  pleasures  upon  the  re- 
cipients without  previous  warning.  Then  they 
come  as  a  divine  blessing  the  realization  of  which 
brings  more  real  pleasure  than  the  uninitiated  can 
possibly  imagine.  And  to  Vir  Noble  was  to  come 
that  night  a  sight  which  would  be  the  gleam  and 
then  the  fullness  of  light  for  which  his  longing  heart 
yearned.  Oh !  if  his  restless,  longing  heart  had  only 
at  that  moment  known  what  joy  was  in  store  for 
it,  what  realization  of  hopes  long  deferred,  what 
reward  for  long  waiting. 

Tired  of  watching  the  people  whom  he  saw  he 
went  to  his  favorite  place  on  a  steamer,  the  extreme 
bow.  There  he  stood  as  the  ocean  conveyance 
ploughed  down  the  channel  where  Governor's  Island 
slipped  by  on  the  port  and  Nix's  Mate  on  the  star- 
board, and  then,  in  the  yet  gleaming  day,  the  upright 
beacons  of  Boston  Light  and  Minot's  Ledge,  Cohas- 
setward,  showed  themselves.  Off  to  the  port  sat 
ancient  Marblehead  nestled  on  the  rocks  over  its 
landlocked  harbor  entrance  and  ahead  rose  the 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE  19 

white  pillar  of  Eastern  Point  light  at  Gloucester's 
harbor  entrance  on  Mother  Ann.  The  whole  scene 
was  surcharged  with  poetic  and  romantic  influence. 
Hardly  a  scene  could  have  been  chosen  more  fitting 
for  the  beginning  of  a  mighty  romance.  O'er  Mar- 
blehead  brooded  the  spirit  of  "Massachusetts  to 
Virginia,"  "Skipper  Ireson's  Ride";  behind  lay  the 
Athens  of  America,  called  not  a  city  but  "a  state 
of  mind."  Towering  into  the  sky  rose  the  shaft  of 
Bunker  Hill  where  Webster  delivered  his  memorable 
oration  and  almost  under  the  monument's  shadow 
lay  Concord  and  Lexington. 

Vir  arose.  The  spell  of  the  ocean  was  upon  him 
and,  possibly,  an  unseen  influence  soon  to  be  re- 
vealed. He  mounted  the  steps  to  the  upper  deck 
where  the  canopy  of  the  heavens  was  over  him.  He 
walked  toward  the  bow  and— a  voice  melted  into 
him  and  he  stopped  instantly.  His  heart  went  to 
that  voice  as  a  child  leaps  to  its  mother.  That 
voice,  that  glance,  were  his  making,  yet  he  did  not 
then  know  it,  but  what  he  did  know  was  that  there 
before  him  stood  one  who  instantly  put  all  thought 
of  other  subjects  or  other  persons  from  his  mind 
and  who  at  once  occupied  his  entire  thought.  And, 
joy  of  joys,  the  girl  looked  up  and  met  his  gaze 
fully  and  frankly.  Vir  Noble  simply  palpitated  all 
over  as  those  wonderful  eyes  rested  full  on  his,  with 
the  most  utter  frankness  he  had  ever  witnessed  in 
human  being.  Oh  how  those  eyes  spoke,  every  good 
and  noble  impulse  was  written  in  them,  the  possi- 
bility of  a  migh-fcy  love  was  evident  therein.  They 
were  big,  wide  orbed  blue  eyes  with  never  a  sugges- 
tion of  deceit  or  duplicity  in  them,  with  a  great  in- 


20       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

born  innocence  speaking  from  them  which  gripped 
Vir's  heart  with  a  feelable  gripping. 

All  this  Vir  saw  in  a  glance  which  transfixed 
his  gaze.  The  face  was  the  most  utterly  appealing 
he  had  ever  seen  and  she  herself  was  undoubtedly 
entirely  unconscious  of  the  fact.  The  habitual  ex- 
pression was  extremely  remarkable,  remarkable  for 
many  reasons  of  great  worth.  The  whole  effect  of 
the  face  was  of  extraordinary  beauty.  Plain  physi- 
cal beauty  is  quite  common  in  a  woman  of  refine- 
ment but  the  beauty  of  this  girl  possessed  qualities 
much  in  excess  of  physical  beauty. 

Perfect  beauty  of  feature  was  the  physical  foun- 
dation upon  which  her  more  than  handsome  face 
was  created,  but  the  beauty  that  rested  on  that 
foundation  was  largely  of  her  own  making  and  to 
her  was  the  credit  for  it. 

A  frown  on  that  countenance  was  surely  a  for- 
eigner and  should  have  been  a  total  stranger.  In 
the  presence  of  that  face  no  true  man  could  plan 
anything  but  joy  for  its  possessor,  but  the  presence 
of  the  lurking  pathos  in  those  glorious  orbs  revealed 
the  fact  that  much  that  was  painful  to  her  had 
transpired. 

And  it  was  this  almost  hidden  pathetic  expres- 
sion, this  marvellous  depicted  beauty  of  character, 
the  generous  mobile  lips,  the  width  between  the  eyes, 
the  gently  waving  hair  of  ardent  brown,  the  total 
beauty  of  the  face  that  appealed  mightily  to  Vir 
Noble  and  told  him  that  here  stood  a  woman  who 
had  fought  an  heroic  fight  and  had  won. 

If  Vir  Noble  had  been  a  man  of  more  effrontery 
than  he  was  he  would  have  immediately  walked  to 
the  woman  and  spoken  to  her.  He  concluded  to 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE          21 

bide  a  little  time  and  see  what  would  happen.  The 
girl  sat  down  on  a  convenient  steamer  chair.  Vir 
noticed  that  she  carried  in  her  hand  a  silver  mesh 
purse.  She  placed  it  in  her  lap  as  she  sat  and,  in 
an  involuntary  moment,  it  slipped  from  her  and 
fell  to  the  deck.  Vir  stepped  up,  stooped  and 
lifted  the  purse  from  the  deck  and  placed  it  in  her 
outstretched  hand.  Her  sweet,  latently  imploring 
eyes  had  followed  his  movements  and  as  he  placed 
the  purse  in  her  hand  she  for  the  first  time  spoke 
directly  to  him.  And  the  words  were,  "I  thank 
you."  The  words  thrilled  the  man  and  he  wished 
she  would  not  stop  speaking. 

"You  are  surely  welcome,"  said  he.  Then  he  no- 
ticed the  silver  chain  attached  to  the  purse  was 
broken.  "May  I  not  fix  it  for  you?"  he  asked.  "Oh, 
I  can  do  that  myself,  I  thank  you;"  and  she  placed 
the  two  expanded  links  of  the  silver  chain  between 
her  teeth  preparatory  to  biting  them  together.  Be- 
fore his  eyes  flashed  a  gleam  of  pearly  whiteness 
which  he  had  never  seen  in  mouth  before.  "No, 
no !"  he  exclaimed.  "You  might  hurt  those  splen- 
did teeth!"  and  he  took  the  purse,  interlocked  the 
expanded  links  and  pressed  the  open  ends  together. 
They  were  better  acquainted  than  if  a  thousand 
persons  had  introduced  them. 

He  drew  up  a  steamer  chair.  "May  I  sit  beside 
you  and  talk?  I  am  alone  and  rather  lonely." 
"You  may,  I,  too,  am  alone,"  she  replied.  They 
sat  there  a  time  in  silence  and  together  gazed  out 
over  the  Summer  sea  which  had  not  enough  motion 
to  perceptibly  move  the  boat  from  an  even  keel.  At 
length  he  broke  the  silence.  "If  I  am  not  too  in- 
quisitive may  I  ask  where  you  are  going?"  "You 


22        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

may,"  she  replied,  "and  I  will  answer.  I  felt  the 
need  of  a  change  and  am  going  to  Gardiner."  "May 
I  ask  your  name?"  he  interrogated.  "If  I  may  ask 
yours,"  she  said  laughing.  "You  may,"  he  assented. 
"My  name  is  Dunora  Whitney."  He  repeated, 
"Dunora  Whitney,  the  person  who  named  you  liked 
pretty  names."  "Now  what  is  your  name?"  asked 
Dunora.  "I  am  called  Vir  Noble."  "I  can  return 
the  compliment,  your  name  is  strong  where  mine  is 
pretty,"  laughed  the  girl.  Vir's  answer  came  in 
verse : 

"Dunora's  a  name  that  is  pretty, 
And  Vir  is  a  name  that  is  strong, 
And  she  is  a  girl  who  is  witty, 
While  he  is  a  man  who  is  long." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  more  fully.  "I  am  always 
fond  of  seeing  people  fond  of  poetry."  Vir  kept 
silent  for  just  a  moment  and  then  said,  "Yes  I  am 
very  fond  of  poetry.  It  seems  to  me  that  poetry 
is  the  music  of  literature  and  literature  is  the  writ- 
ten music  of  the  soul,  so  if  a  person  is  fond  of 
poetry  it  signifies  that  they  have  in  themselves  the 
highest  kind  of  soul  music." 

The  girl  was  looking  off  to  sea  as  he  was  speak- 
ing. She  heard  all  his  words  and  was  drinking  in 
their  meaning  and  therefore  was  wrapped  in 
thought. 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "I  want  to  ask 
you  something.  You  have  just  said  that  fondness  for 
poetry  indicates  a  person  who  has  music  of  soul. 
Do  you  think  my  speaking  to  you,  a  stranger,  with- 
out the  formality  of  an  introduction  was  out  of 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE  23 

place  or  out  of  keeping  with  the  quality  of  soul  you 
mention?" 

Vir  responded  with  interest.  "If  I  hold  myself  in 
respect,  isn't  it  a  fitting  question  for  me  to  ask 
myself  as  well  as  for  you  to  ask  yourself?  Would 
I  have  entered  into  conversation  with  you  for  any 
length  of  time,  even  if  we  had  been  duly  introduced, 
unless  I  found  you  a  spirit  to  which  I  needed  no 
introduction?" 

This  answer  showed  the  girl  the  respect  Vir  held 
himself  in  and  so  knew  he  must  hold  a  person  of  her 
sex  in  even  higher  respect.  "That  remark  helps 
me,"  said  the  girl  with  a  half  discernible  sigh  of 
relief. 

A  quiet  fell  over  them.  Their  spirits  were  be- 
coming better  acquainted.  The  beauty  of  their 
surroundings  was  reflected  in  their  inner  thoughts. 
The  radiant  glow  of  the  setting  sun,  the  balmi- 
ness  and  plushlike  touch  of  the  light  moving  sea 
breeze,  the  blinking  eyes  of  the  lighthouses  begin- 
ning to  glimmer,  all  lent  their  influence  to  the 
scene. 

They  were  seated  amidships  on  the  port  side  away 
from  the  groups  of  other  passengers.  He  wondered 
what  the  girl  was  doing  in  travelling  alone  and  as 
he  was  entertaining  the  thought  she,  almost  as 
though  she  read  his  thoughts,  said,  "You  no  doubt 
wonder  why  I  am  alone.  I  am  going  to  a  relative's, 
and  I  have  gone  this  way  before  when  I  have  wanted 
to  get  away  from  my  surroundings.  I  am  apt  to 
rely  on  myself."  Vir  interposed,  "One  often  wishes 
to  be  alone.  Let  us  take  a  little  walk  up  forward." 
Dunora  arose  and  together  they  walked  forward  to- 
ward the  front  of  the  pilot  house. 


24       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

A  light  shone  from  an  open  door  amidships.  As 
they  approached  Dunora  looked  through  the  open- 
ing and  spoke  to  the  wireless  operator.  "Good 
evening,  Mr.  Belverdy ;  I  see  you  have  come  on  duty/' 
"Yes,  Miss  Whitney."  The  girl  turned  toward  the 
wireless  instruments  and  entered.  Vir  followed. 
They  sat  down  on  the  chairs  given  them  by  the 
operator  and  Dunora  introduced  the  two  men.  It 
so  happened  that  Noble  was  acquainted  with  the 
mysteries  of  wireless  operation  to  a  degree  unusual 
to  most  people,  for  he  had  been  actively  engaged 
as  manager  for  a  large  telegraph  organization.  He 
had  studied  into  the  secrets  of  its  operation  and  the 
two  men  vied  with  each  other  explaining  the  ap- 
paratus and  its  operation  to  Dunora.  "Listen!" 
said  the  operator,  as  he  was  straining  to  catch 
flashes  of  the  electrical  impulses  travelling  through 
the  ether.  Dunora  put  the  receivers  to  her  ears  and 
could  discern  the  sharp  dashes  and  dots  of  the 
Morse  code  coming  from  some  unknown  source. 
"That  is  a  message  coming  from  one  of  two 
British  warships  off  to  the  east  looking  for  enemy 
ships.  They  are  talking  in  code,"  said  Belverdy. 
"Soon  you  will  hear  the  other  vessel  answer."  True 
enough  it  was  not  long  ere  the  answering  message 
came.  The  great  world  war  was  under  way  and 
the  British  men-o'-war  were  scouring  Old  Ocean  to 
brush  off  the  commerce  of  its  enemy.  What  a  God 
given  wonder  with  which  to  flash  human  thoughts 
through  space  itself! 

The  evening  was  so  balmy  that  its  inviting  peace 
enticed  them  from  the  glare  of  the  electric  light  in 
the  cabin  to  continue  their  walk  forward  toward 
the  bow.  As  they  stepped  from  the  cabin  for  just 


CAUSED  BY  A  VOICE  25 

a  moment  his  awkwardness  caused  her  body  to  lean 
against  his.  He  felt  his  senses  surge.  Who  was 
this  fair  woman  who  among  the  world's  thousands 
whom  he  had  seen  should  so  instantly  attract  him 
and  the  touch  of  whose  body  should  thrill  him  as  he 
had  never  been  thrilled  before?  As  they  walked 
toward  the  bow  Dunora  remarked,  "When  I  was  on 
this  boat  on  a  former  trip  one  of  the  ship's  officers 
whom  I  knew  kindly  introduced  me  to  the  wireless 
operator  as  I  was  anxious  to  learn  about  the  wire- 
less apparatus." 

Off  toward  the  rocky  shore  of  Mother  Ann  stared 
the  two  winkless  eyes  of  the  dual  Thatcher's  Island 
lights  which  seem  to  look  benignantly  forth  warning 
vessels  from  the  rocky  coast  and  telling  mariners 
that  no  matter  how  wild  the  waves  there  was  a  shore 
built  upon  a  rock  which  neither  storm  nor  stress 
could  disturb.  And  how  longingly  many  a  storm 
tossed  sailor  has  looked  for  Thatcher's  lights  as  his 
ship  came  in  from  the  mighty  ocean. 

As  they  stood  before  the  pilot  house  Dunora  said, 
"Thatcher's  Island  is  usually  my  good  night  light, 
for  I  am  accustomed  to  retire  at  this  point  when 
I  come  to  Maine  and  I  will  say  good  night  to  you 
here.  I  have  been  so  used  to  being  alone  that  I 
have  a  habit  of  going  to  an  unfrequented  portion 
of  the  steamer  to  be  mistress  of  my  own  thoughts 
before  retiring." 

They  clasped  hands.  "May  I  see  you  again  in 
the  morning?"  asked  the  man.  "You  will  have  to 
rise  early  if  you  do,"  laughed  the  girl,  "for  we  enter 
the  Kennebec  before  daylight  and  I  usually  rise 
early  to  see  the  beauties  of  the  river."  "I  have  to 
get  up  early  for  we  reach  Bath  at  about  four  in 


26       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

the  morning."  Vir  went  toward  the  main  cabin  off 
of  which  his  stateroom  was  situated.  In  his  little 
cabin  he  found  himself  wrapped  in  thought  of 
Dunora. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

THE   MORNING   BREAKS 

WEEPING  endureth  for  the  night  but  joy 
cometh  in  the  morning,"  says  the  Good  Book ; 
and  many  and  many  an  earthly  tear  has  been  dried 
by  the  thought  of  the  joy  which  cometh  as  surely 
as  the  morning  dawns  even  though  the  weeping  en- 
dureth through  the  earthly  night  and  the  world's 
weeping,  to  which  the  Bible  refers,  endures  during 
the  night  of  sin  in  which  we  live.  Ah,  were  it  not 
so  what  a  world  this  would  be ! 

These  thoughts  comforted  Vir  as  he  tossed  sleep- 
less on  his  berth  that  night,  for  his  brain  simply 
refused  to  rest  and  kept  repeating  the  scenes  of  the 
talk  with  the  girl  and  ringing  into  his  mental  hear- 
ing the  oft  repeated  word  "Dunora!" 

It  hurt  his  pride  for  he  had  thought  himself  mas- 
ter of  himself  and  the  thought  that  a  woman  could 
occupy  his  mental  vision  even  for  that  time  was  an 
unknown  experience  for  him.  He  turned  from  one 
side  of  his  narrow  quarters  to  the  other  and  with 
each  turn  to  a  more  comfortable  position,  he  sought 
to  rest  only  to  have  that  face  constantly  before  him 
and  to  hear  that  name  "Dunora!" 

"Oh,  she's  only  a  girl!"  he  at  last  muttered  in 
disgust  with  himself.  And  then  a  strange  thing 
happened.  An  almost  audible  voice  spoke  within 

27 


him  which  said  "You  Lie!  She  isn't  only  a  girl. 
She  is  more  of  a  true  woman  than  you  have  ever 
known  and  you  know  it.  Don't  be  a  coward.  Are 
you  afraid  of  a  woman?" 

He  rolled  over  again  and  sighed.  "You  are 
right,"  he  spoke  in  answer  to  the  voice  he  had  cer- 
tainly heard  within  him.  "Vir  Noble,  you  are  in 
for  a  sleepless  night  and  a  woman  has  caused  it, 
but  you  must  charge  it  up  to  homage  to  a  real 
queen." 

Oh,  how  long  the  mental  weeping  of  that  night 
until  the  morning  would  break  and  the  joy  would 
come  in  the  presence  of  Dunora  once  more.  Ah, 
but  there  was  a  tinge  of  pain  in  it,  for  he  knew  he 
must  leave  the  boat  at  Bath,  while  she  was  to  sail 
further  up  the  Kennebec. 

In  that  summer  time  the  dawn  came  early,  so 
early  that  he  didn't  think  the  girl  would  arise  so 
soon,  but  as  he  was  awake  there  was  no  need  of 
remaining  indoors,  so  he  went  outside  in  the  grey 
of  the  dawn.  As  he  went  from  his  door  he  looked 
at  the  door  of  her  stateroom  which  was  across  the 
hallway  from  his  and  slightly  nearer  the  bow.  How 
much  even  a  wooden  door  may  shelter. 

Strange  feeling  to  himself,  he  felt  ill  at  ease  and 
like  a  lost  person.  He  wandered  about  the  boat 
looking  in  every  nook  for  the  object  of  his  thoughts, 
longing  to  behold  her  with  a  longing  he  could  hardly 
understand  since  he  had  seen  so  little  of  her.  But 
then  there  came  to  him  again  the  thought  he  had 
experienced  when  he  first  saw  her. 

And  then  there  came  to  him  the  maddening 
thought,  "How  have  I  impressed  her?  I  cannot 
hope  she  has  thought  of  me  as  I  have  thought  of  her, 


THE  MORNING  BREAKS        29 

for  she  is  a  woman  and  naturally  recedes  from  a 
man  and  where  I  saw  almost  at  once  in  her  what  I 
have  long  been  unconsciously  seeking,  she  may  have 
seen  very  little  in  me  to  attract  her." 

As  Vir  walked  on  the  deck  where  he  had  seen  her 
the  night  before  he  again  caught  a  glimpse  of  Dun- 
ora  coming  up  the  companionway.  She  looked  di- 
rectly in  his  direction  and  he  was  pleased  to  see  a 
smile  illumine  her  features.  As  her  form  emerged 
from  the  hatchway  the  sun,  though  only  on  the  east- 
ern horizon  and  hidden  by  the  hills  of  Georgetown 
Island,  bathed  the  air  with  a  benison  of  gold  and 
a  special  crown  seemed  to  halo  the  head  of  Dunora. 
In  fact  at  all  times  an  intangible  and  peculiar  radi- 
ance seemed  to  be  around  her,  a  radiance  which  ren- 
dered her  apart  from  the  throng. 

As  she  came  onto  the  upper  deck  he  went  toward 
her.  "You  see  I  did  get  up  as  early  as  you,  Miss 
Whitney,"  he  laughed.  "I  didn't  think  you  would," 
said  she.  "There  may  have  been  a  reason,"  he 
added.  "What  was  it?"  she  queried.  "I  wanted  to 
be  sure  I  didn't  miss  you."  Dunora  only  laughed. 

Off  to  the  port  a  reef  stood  out  of  the  river  at 
low  tide  and  many  seals  were  resting  on  the  rocks. 
Although  quite  light  the  searchlight  was  thrown 
on  them.  It  kept  their  attention  so  fixed  that  they 
did  not  plunge  into  the  river  as  the  great  steamer 
passed.  The  novel  sight  much  interested  the  girl 
and  she  clapped  her  hands  in  glee.  It  seemed  very 
good  to  Vir  to  see  that  this  girl  liked  the  same 
things  that  he  did.  Both  were  lovers  of  poetry  and 
nature. 

As  the  moments  passed  they  sat  much  in  silence. 
Even  at  that  short  acquaintance  there  was,  at  least 


30       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

on  the  man's  part,  a  feeling  of  rest,  of  almost  un- 
conscious relaxation  from  care.  Yes,  Vir  was  drawn 
to  this  woman  for  many  reasons.  He  having  a  na- 
ture of  depth  and  having  passed  through  periods  of 
peculiar  suffering,  longed  for  a  true  companion. 

"So  you  are  going  up  the  river,"  he  said.  "Yes." 
"And  I  get  off  at  Bath."  She  did  not  answer. 
"Where  did  you  say  you  were  going?"  he  asked  in 
an  unconsciously  almost  rude  attempt  to  enliven 
the  conversation.  "I  am  going  to  Gardiner  to  a 
relative's  for  a  rest."  He  hardly  knew  what  to  say 
then  unless  he  said  what  he  wanted  to,  but  didn't 
dare  to  say.  He  thought  he  would  try  to  get  an 
opening,  so  said,  "I  am  sorry  I  am  going  to  get 
off  at  Bath."  In  the  most  innocent  fashion,  not  in 
the  least  indicating  that  she  had  any  idea  why  he  was 
sorry  for  getting  off  at  Bath,  she  said,  "I  think 
Bath  a  very  pretty  city,  why  are  you  sorry?"  He 
jumped  at  the  chance  offered.  "Because  I  would 
exceedingly  like  to  continue  on  to  your  journey's 
end  for  1  he  sake  of  your  company." 

Fiddkr's  Reach,  where  the  Kennebec  turns  at 
right  angles  in  its  course,  was  reached  and  Vir 
knew  tl  at  beyond  the  western  turn  Bath  would 
come  in'o  view.  There  he  would  leave  her  on  that 
day  bu  he  was  burning  with  the  resolve  that  he 
would  go  through  more  to  see  her  again  than  he 
would  }  ave  gone  through  to  have  seen  any  other 
girl  he  ever  knew.  But  would  she  give  him  her  ad- 
dress. He  trembled  as  he  asked  her.  "Miss  Whit- 
ney, I  am  going  to  make  an  unusual  request.  I 
wish  to  call  on  you  and  renew  this  acquaintance. 
Will  you  please  give  me  your  address?" 

The  pause  seemed  hours  before  she  spoke.     "If 


THE  MORNING  BREAKS       31 

you  will  give  me  a  piece  of  paper  I  will  write  it 
down."  The  paper  was  quickly  produced  and  the 
address  written  down.  Here  Dunora  showed  one 
face  of  her  prismatic  character;  whatever  she  de- 
termined to  do  she  did  without  thought  of  shame 
or  convention. 

"I  thank  you  very  much  for  trusting  me  with 
your  address.  When  do  you  return  home  to  Massa- 
chusetts?" "In  about  a  week  I  think."  Vir  Noble 
thereupon  resolved  to  go  to  Massachusetts  also  at 
that  time. 

Vir  clasped  the  hand  of  Dunora  as  the  steamer 
tied  up  at  the  wharf  at  Bath  and  said,  "I  shall  see 
you  again  soon,  I  trust."  As  he  stood  on  the 
wharf  Dunora  stood  above  on  the  deck  where  they 
had  conversed  on  the  previous  evening.  As  the 
boat  drew  from  the  wharf  and  majestically  turned 
up  stream  she  waved  her  hand  at  him  and  he  went 
to  the  inter-island  steamer  which  was  to  carry  him 
to  his  destination.  That  too  steamed  from  her  dock 
and  turned  into  the  Kennebec.  Vir  stood  in  the 
stern  looking  toward  the  steamer  carrying  Dunora 
away  from  him. 

The  trip  of  leisure  which  Vir  had  planned  in  Bos- 
ton turned  out  to  be  a  trip  of  thought.  Every- 
where he  went  the  face  of  Dunora  wras  seen  and 
her  name  frequently  came  to  him  unawares.  Then 
he  tried  to  fight  against  it,  but,  strong  as  he  was, 
he  found  it  of  no  use.  If  it  had  been  a  business 
trip  on  which  he  was  he  would  hardly  have  made 
much  of  a  success  of  it.  Constantly  he  wondered 
just  where  Dunora  was  at  that  moment,  just  what 
she  was  doing,  and  whom  she  was  with  and — if  she 
thought  of  him. 


32       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

The  wooded  hills  and  rocky  sea  cliffs  which  usu- 
ally filled  him  with  beauty  gendered  pleasure  then 
displeased  him  for  he  said,  "They  rise  between 
Dunora  and  me.'*  His  vacation  was  anything  but 
rest.  It  was  a  constant  longing  to  see  the  girl. 

The  week  came  to  an  end  and  he  followed  Dunora 
in  his  mind  on  her  journey  back  to  Massachusetts. 
Secure  in  the  possession  of  her  address  he  still  lin- 
gered in  Maine  trying  to  conquer  his  ardent  de- 
sire. But  he  finally  admitted  that  he  would  find 
no  peace  till  he  found  her,  so  he  turned  his  course 
toward  Massachusetts  also. 

He  could  not  force  himself,  unless  with  an  ex- 
treme effort,  to  return  to  Boston  by  steamer,  for 
the  very  boat  which  brought  Dunora  and  him  from 
Boston  was  the  one  which  went  from  Bath  to  Bos- 
ton that  night.  Had  he  returned  on  that  boat  he 
would  have  passed  another  sleepless  night  and  every 
nook  and  corner  where  Dunora  had  been  seen  by 
him  would  have  spoken  of  her  with  a  thousand 
clamorous  tongues. 

But  Dunora!  The  girl  who  had  so  remarkably 
wrapped  herself  into  the  very  tissue  of  Vir's  brain, 
what  of  her? 

As  the  larger  steamer  had  swung  up  the  broad 
Kennebec  she  had  gone  to  her  stateroom  to  rest 
from  the  momentary  fatigue  of  arising  so  early  and 
then  went  to  the  bow  where  she  enjoyed  the  scenery 
and  was  joined  by  another  acquaintance,  and  in  the 
conversation  all  thought  of  the  previous  evening 
was  thrust  from  her  mind.  Little  did  she  realize 
the  impression  she  had  made  on  Vir. 

Dunora  had  been  met  by  no  one  when  she  landed 
at  Gardiner,  for  in  her  restlessness  she  had  gone  on 


THE  MORNING  BREAKS       33 

the  impulse  of  the  moment  and  had  notified  no  one 
of  her  coming.  In  fact,  so  sudden  had  been  her  de- 
termination to  go  to  Maine  that  she  had  been  wit- 
nessing a  performance  at  a  theatre  the  afternoon 
previous,  and  while  seated  there  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  take  the  trip.  A  relative  lived  on  the  hills 
back  of  the  city,  and  to  her  home  she  went  as  soon 
as  she  arrived. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

THE   GREAT   PILOT   LEADS 

fTlHESE  days  at  Gardiner  were  days  in  which 
A  Dunora  raced  as  a  thing  of  the  woods.  The 
freedom  of  the  open  air,  the  strength  of  the  hills, 
the  breadth  and  depth  of  the  woods  drew  her  irre- 
sistibly and  sweetly.  She  acted  as  one  endeavor- 
ing to  forget  and  annul  the  past  and  other  sur- 
roundings. There  was  almost  always  an  appear- 
ance of  a  depth  to  her  that  seemed  to  be  unfathom- 
able. That  was  a  large  part  of  what  drew  Vir  to 
the  girl  with  the  longing  of  a  tender  heart  to  know 
the  suffering  that  had  been  in  another  tender  heart. 
Vir  returned  to  Boston  by  train  after  wandering 
about  near  the  scene  where  he  had  left  her  instead 
of  remaining  in  one  place  as  he  intended.  Every 
day  had  its  protracted  thoughts  of  Dunora,  and 
he  planned  the  return  to  her  with  great  joy.  The 
arrival  in  Boston  filled  him  with  a  feeling  he  had 
never  felt  before.  His  old  office,  his  old  haunts  were 
seen  by  him  in  a  new  light  and,  at  the  earliest  op- 
portunity, he  went  to  the  address  she  had  given  him. 
It  was  with  a  feeling  of  anticipation,  of  a  com- 
bination of  reluctance  coupled  with  consummate  joy 
that  he  wended  his  way  toward  the  house  where  he 
expected  to  see  the  girl  of  his  thoughts.  His  hesi- 
tation was  caused  by  a  reluctance  to  see  her  in  any 

34 


THE  GREAT  PILOT  LEADS      85 

other  than  those  ideal  surroundings  in  which  he  had 
met  the  woman  who  already  was  a  magnet  to  him. 
Something  in  those  dear  childlike  eyes  of  hers  told 
him  that  she  was  a  true  queen  fit  for  the  highest 
honors,  the  loftiest  home  comforts. 

Vir  enquired  his  way  and  at  length  looked  up  at 
a  signboard  and  read  the  name  she  had  given  him 
as  the  street  on  which  she  lived.  He  looked  up  and 
down  its  length  and  scrutinized  every  house.  Could 
it  be  that  really  he  was  looking  at  the  very  street 
of  all  the  streets  on  earth,  where  the  girl  of  girls 
lived.  And  he  stood  on  the  corner  and  again  his 
sentimental  nature  came  into  play  and  he  clothed 
that  street  with  the  vestments  of  his  fancy's  con- 
juring. 

And  as  he  stood  there  a  thousand  thoughts  threw 
their  tranquil  and  tempestuous  throes  upon  his 
brain.  Who  was  Dunora  Whitney?  He  could  not 
answer  that  for  he  had  not  asked  her.  What  was 
Dunora  Whitney?  That  question  he  knew  he 
would  not  have  to  ask  anyone,  for  he  felt  assured 
his  own  manhood  would  find  the  answer  in  reading 
Dunora's  true  womanhood.  One  thing  he  knew  of 
her  and  that  he  could  never  forget  and  that  was 
she  was  all  a  woman  should  be. 

Another  of  the  multitudinous  questions  which 
came  to  him  was  why  the  pained  look  he  had  ob- 
served in  her  face,  and  still  another,  what  was  the 
foundation  upon  which  she  had  built  her  very  evi- 
dent nobility?  After  he  had  stood  there  dreaming 
he  slowly  and  deliberately  walked  up  the  street  un- 
til— he  stood  before  the  house  numbered  with  the 
number  Dunora  had  given  him.  It  was  an  apart- 
ment house.  At  last  he  was  to  see  her !  He  mounted 


86       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

the  steps  with  a  feeling  akin  to  a  whirligig's  poise. 
He  glanced  at  the  names  on  the  bell  plates.  Her 
name  was  not  there! 

In  a  quandary  as  to  what  to  do  he  rang  the  bell 
to  the  lower  apartment.  There  was  a  noise  within 
as  of  some  one  stirring,  and  Vir's  heart  beat  a  little 
faster  because  of  the  sound.  Presently  the  door 
opened  and  a  woman  stood  before  him.  For  one 
of  the  very  few  times  in  his  life  Vir's  tongue  grew 
stubborn  and  refused  to  do  his  bidding.  At  last 
he  stammered  "Is  Dunora  Whitney  in?"  He  would 
not  insult  Dunora  by  asking  if  she  lived  there,  even 
though  her  name  did  not  appear  among  the  resi- 
dents therein.  She  had  told  him  she  lived  here,  so 
she  must. 

But  the  answer  to  Vir's  question  came  from  the 
lips  of  the  woman.  "Dunora  Whitney  did  live  here 
but  she  has  moved  away."  There  was  a  pause  dur- 
ing which  Vir  trembled  in  fear  to  ask  the  next  ques- 
tion. But  it  came.  "Where  is  she  now?"  The 
woman  looked  at  Vir  rather  searchingly  before  she 
spoke  again.  In  that  moment  he  felt  that  she  was 
hesitating  whether  to  tell  or  not  to  tell.  Thank 
God  she  told! 

He  thanked  the  woman  and  then  went  to  the  new 
address  which  was  not  far  away.  There  at  last  was 
the  bell  to  ring.  He  pushed  the  button  and  it 
echoed  through  the  apartment.  All  at  once  he  heard 
a  step  on  the  stairs  which  he  recognized. 

The  door  opened  and  Dunora  again  stood  before 
him.  A  look  of  surprise  came  to  her.  A  feeling 
of  joy  came  to  him.  "Oh,  I  didn't  expect  to  see 
you  here,"  she  exclaimed.  "How  did  you  find  out 
where  I  lived?"  "The  lady  where  you  formerly 


THE  GREAT  PILOT  LEADS      37 

lived,  the  one  downstairs  told  me."  It  was  an  awk- 
ward moment,  she  did  not  ask  him  in,  Vir  was  per- 
plexed. 

"Will  you  not  come  out  with  me  a  little  while 
either  to-day  or  to-morrow?"  he  asked  her.  Dunora 
thought  a  moment  and  replied,  "I  will  meet  you  in 
the  waiting  room  of  the  North  Station  at  two 
o'clock  to-morrow."  With  a  joyous  "Thank  you," 
Vir  departed  and  went  to  his  rooms. 

As  the  hours  finally  dragged  their  minutes  out 
Vir  went  to  the  appointed  place,  swung  one  of  the 
doors  and  walked  into  the  waiting  room.  He 
glanced  at  the  appointed  spot  and  there  she  was. 
And  again  he  was  glad  that  his  estimate  of  her  had 
been  correct. 

As  he  approached  she  saw  him  and  smiled  a  wel- 
come as  she  stood.  Together  they  walked  the  streets 
and  talked  and  during  the  afternoon  he  learned 
nothing  more  about  her  than  that  she  was  keeping 
house  for  a  man  of  much  maturer  years.  She  made 
no  explanations  and  he  asked  no  questions.  Her 
dignity  would  not  allow  questioning.  Yet  in  their 
conversation  he  learned  a  little  of  her  youthful  as- 
sociates. Over  it  all  was  a  shroud  of  mystery^ 
Greater  and  greater  grew  the  intense  desire  to  get 
beneath  the  surface  of  this  girl  who  was  beginning 
to  become  wonderful  to  him. 

After  that  meeting  in  Massachusetts  they  made 
an  appointment  for  another  meeting  at  the  same 
place,  but  when  Vir  came  she  was  not  there.  He 
was  amazed.  He  waited  and  waited  but  she  did  not 
come.  When  one  is  beginning  to  become  interested 
in  or  in  the  least  attached  to  another  person  and 
they  in  any  way  fail  them  a  wound  is  made.  Vir 


38       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

felt  keenly  the  absence  of  this  girl.  There  were 
the  hurrying  throngs  but  no  Dunora.  Oh,  why 
didn't  she  come?  In  later  years  Vir  found  out  why 
Dunora  did  not  keep  that  appointment.  The  rea- 
son was  not  flattering  to  Vir. 

Dunora  had  not  asked  him  in,  she  had  not  asked 
him  to  call,  he  could  not  force  himself  on  her,  so 
did  not  find  out  then  why  she  did  not  come.  He  was 
also  unconsciously  to  himself  then  beginning  to 
throw  up  his  defences  against  allowing  himself  to 
become  enamoured  of  a  woman,  for  he  knew  what  it 
would  mean  to  him  if  he  did.  But  his  defences  were 
of  no  avail,  for  it  was  to  be.  He  felt  as  though 
they  would  meet  again  even  if  they  did  not  seek  a 
meeting. 

Subsequent  events  proved  two  facts.  They  were, 
first,  that  Dunora  Whitney  had  passed  through  ex- 
periences of  the  most  trying  kind  for  a  girl  on 
earth,  that  she  had  emerged  from  the  fires  of  perse- 
cution and  temptation  absolutely  white,  unspotted 
and  unscathed;  and,  secondly,  that  Vir  Noble  had 
gone  through  those  similarly  dissimilar  events  which 
fitted  him  for  an  appreciation  of  Dunora.  Suffice  it 
to  say  of  him  that  from  years  of  understanding  he 
had  sought  to  place  his  faculties  on  the  altar  of  hu- 
man service.  His  ability  lay  primarily  in  reading 
character  and  wielding  the  pen.  Such  should  con- 
sider their  dower  sent  only  for  the  highest  use. 

"I  hold  it  a  duty  of  one  who  is  gifted 
And  royally  dowered  in  all  men's  sight 
To  know  no  rest  till  his  life  is  lifted 
Wholly  up  to  his  great  gift's  height. 


THE  GREAT  PILOT  LEADS      39 

He  must  mould  the  man  into  rare  completeness, 

For  gems  are  set  only  in  gold  refined ; 

He  must  fashion   his   thoughts   into  perfect 

sweetness 
And  cast  out  folly  and  pride  from  his  mind. 

For  he  who  drinks  from  a.  god's  gold  chalice 
Of  art  or  music  or  rhythmic  song 
Must  sift  from  his  soul  the  chaff  of  malice 
And  weed  from  his  heart  the  roots  of  wrong. 

Great  gifts  should  be  worn  like  a  crown  be- 
fitting, 

And  not  like  gems  on  a  beggar's  hands, 
And  the  toil  must  be  constant  and  unremitting 
Which  lifts  up  the  king  to  the  crown's  demand." 

And,  though  no  meeting  was  arranged  and  the 
world  is  mighty  and  cities  great,  meet  they  did.  But 
in  the  meantime  Vir  thought  and  thought  of  Dunora 
and  began  to  long  to  see  her,  when  one  day  as  he  was 
walking  along  a  street  of  Lynn  he  saw  her  looking 
into  a  window.  The  same  look  of  unhappiness  was 
on  that  sweet  face,  and  it  made  Vir  long  to  have 
that  little,  childlike,  innocent  face  lay  on  his  broad 
breast  and  unburden  that  heart.  She  was  turned 
away  from  Vir,  so  she  did  not  see  him  until  he  spoke. 
"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again,"  exclaimed  Vir. 
"Where  are  you  living  now?"  Dunora  told  him 
she  was  living  in  a  nearby  town.  "Can't  we  plan 
an  outing  some  day  this  week?"  he  asked.  "Yes,  if 
you'll  write  me."  He  told  her  he  would  and  would 
mention  the  place  of  meeting.  She  seemed  somewhat 
preoccupied.  He  asked  her  if  she  had  been  much  in 


40       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

that  locality  and  she  paused  ere  she  replied.      A 
cloud  passed  over  her  face. 

"Oh  yes,  I  have  been  here  in  the  past,"  she  as- 
serted and  she  hesitated  as  if  in  reverie.  Never  had 
Vir  seen  a  face  which  more  plainly  told  him  that  he 
must  first  pay  a  long  apprenticeship  to  win  her  con- 
fidence and  trust  before  he  could  ever  get  her  secret. 
He  knew  he  wanted  to  pay  the  price  of  apprentice- 
ship. He  felt  her  young  life  had  been  battered  by 
the  storms  of  human  bestiality — there  was  a  glory 
to  her  which  told  him  that  she  had  won  in  the  fight. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

DUNORA 

FAR  up  North  on  Maine's  green 
stream  braes, 
In  the  days  not  long  ago, 
There  was  born  a  wee  bit  lassie, 
In  that  land  of  drifted  snow, 
And  the  May  wind  softly  blessed  her 
As  she  came  from  heaven  down 
And  the  Lord  of  Hosts  spoke  to  her, 
"Lass,  I  place  on  thee  a  crown." 

"Blessed  is  he  that  overcometh," 
On  the  sacred  page  is  read, 
For  the  crown  of  life  He  giveth, 
That  shall  ransom  from  the  dead. 
And  the  Lord  of  Life  then  trained  her 
In  the  rough  way  of  the  cross, 
For  He  knew  that  early  pleasures 
Meant  indeed  the  crown's  sure  loss. 

Then  when  still  a  toddling  bairnie, 
Mother  died  and  father  went, 
And  with  cruel  foster  parents 
Loveless,  toil-worn  years  were  spent. 
And  the  little  heart  cried  "Love  me," 
And  the  big  wide  eyes  grew  blurred, 
As,  instead  of  love,  harsh  scoldings, 
Blames  and  heartless  words  were  heard. 
41 


42       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Oh,  those  long  nights  in  the  attic — 
Oh,  that  woodbox  piled  so  high — 
Oh,  the  cow  brought  home  from  pasture — 
Oh,  the  weary  feet, — the  cry, 
When  alone  she  bore  her  sorrow, 
When  alone  she  wanted  love, 
When  she  did  not  know  the  morrow 
Comes  from  God  who  is  above. 

Yes,  the  morrow  sure  was  coming, 
For  the  One  who  dwelt  on  high 
Surely  saw  His  chosen  lassie, 
Surely  heard  her  wee  lips  cry, 
And  amid  the  storm's  wild  beating 
Making  her  a  queen  indeed, 
Mercifully,  kindly,  truly, 
God  Himself  supplied  her  need. 

But  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly 
And  the  guerdon  yet  to  be 
Shone  but  in  the  distant  future, 
Still  there  was  the  wild  shore's  lea, 
Where  the  breakers  whelmed  her  over, 
Where  the  cold  surge  grasped  her  form, 
Where  the  whirlpool  and  the  maelstrom 
Were  the  hirelings  of  the  storm. 

Wonder  child  marked  by  her  nature, 
Strange  and  wild  the  neighbors  said, 
But  they  did  not  know  the  yearnings 
Thrashed  out,  sobbed  out  on  her  bed. 
All  alone  she  lived  her  wee  life; 
All  alone  she  thought  her  thoughts ; 
Slowly,  surely,  it  was  coming 
"Lo,  the  woman  God  has  wrought !" 


DUNORA  43 

For  the  diamond's  brilliant  lustre 
Is  by  cruel  crushings  made, 
And  our  golden  glow  of  nature 
Comes  to  us  when  sorrow  weighed 
Heavy,  weighty,  stern  and  fearsome, 
Till  the  weaker  tissues  fled 
And  the  residue  was  jewel, 
Brilliant,  scintillating,  red. 

E'en  the  Saviour  from  the  heavens, 
When  He  walked  on  earth  below, 
Trod  the  Via  Dolorosa, 
There  His  Father's  love  to  know. 
And  when  all  the  thorny  pathway 
Had  been  passed,  the  cross  o'ercome, 
Then  the  Heavenly  Father  raised  Him, 
Gave  Him  place  in  God's  own  throne. 

So  Dunora  in  her  trials, 
Thorny  road  and  cruel  rod, 
Came,  unknowing,  blind,  unseeing, 
Near  and  nearer  to  her  God. 
Nearer,  nearer  Heavenly  Father, 
Nearer  still  my  God  to  thee, 
Even  though  it  be  the  bitter 
Pang  wracked  cross  that  raiseth  me. 

"There's  a  wideness  in  God's  mercy 
Like  the  wideness  of  the  sea." 
There's  a  sweetness  in  His  leading, 
Which  is  more  than  sweet  can  be. 
There's  a  joy  in  His  correction, 
Joy  to  know  that  you  are  led, 
There's  a  fullness  of  fruition, 
When  by  heavenly  manna  fed. 


44        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

'Twas  the  Saviour's  words  of  blessing, 
"Many  are  called,  few  chosen  be" 
To  the  highest  rank  in  heaven 
In  God's  throne  eternally. 
Hard  the  road  to  earn  the  saintship, 
Strait  the  way  and  small  the  gate, 
Many  called  shall  hear  in  anguish 
"Do  not  enter  here ! — Too  late !" 

Yet  of  all  that  lived  below  here 
The  many  called  are  few  indeed, 
And  the  ones  the  Lord  thus  blesses 
Must  indeed  the  child's  heart  need. 
"Except  ye  be  as  little  children" 
Pure  in  heart  with  faith  intent 
Ye  can  nowise  to  God's  Kingdom, 
Ever  have  your  spirits  sent. 

So  the  God  of  earth  and  heaven 
Looking  o'er  the  hosts  of  men 
Found  Dunora,  helpless,  childlike, 
Knew  her  spirit,  saw  her  when 
Lone  and  hungry,  cold  and  loveless, 
Tempted  by  the  devil's  snare 
Staunchly,  fearlessly  and  queenly 
Hunger,  cold,  oppression  bare. 

At  the  early  age  of  fifteen 

Robbed  of  childhood,  crushed  by  work, 

Sold  into  a  loveless  marriage, 

Mockery  which  true  men  shirk. 

Thus  her  loveless  foster  parents 

Treat  the  unprotected  child 

Thus  their  "Christian"  hearts  direct  them 

Into  madness,  selfish,  wild. 


DUNORA  45 

Of  the  sins  the  Good  Book  mentions 

None  so  vile  and  none  so  cold 

As  the  narrow  lust  and  greed  which 

Sells  another's  soul  for  gold. 

And  the  so-called  man  who  "made"  them 

"Man  and  wife"  lied  in  his  heart. 

God  be  praised,  you  cannot  mock  Him 

The  lass  has  now  another  start. 

For  but  misery  and  hunger 
Lovelessness  and  yearnings  wild 
Racked  the  brain  and  wrenched  the  heart  of 
That  poor,  innocent  and  God  loved  child. 
God  be  thanked,  the  blood  of  heroes 
Through  her  tender  veinlets  ran 
And  alone,  goldless  and  hungry 
Out  into  the  world  she  ran. 

Yes,  it  pains  my  heart  to  tell  it, 

Oh  I  cannot  tell  how  much, 

Penniless  and  hungry,  friendless, 

Not  a  kindly  hand  to  touch; 

Out  into  Satan's  realm  she  wandered, 

Lustful  eyes  upon  her  preyed 

But  the  spirit  of  her  Maker 

Gave  her  strength,  her  courage  stayed. 

Stayed  her  when  weak  from  hunger 
Staggered  she  along  the  road 
When  in  every  darksome  corner 
Human  curs  on  her  would  load 
Every  food  her  body  needed, 
Every  earthly  need  supply, 
If  she'd  grovel  in  their  vomit 
And  amid  their  filth  would  lie. 


46       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Then  to  further  crush  the  dross  off, 
Then  to  raise  more  by  the  cross 
Suffered  she  the  direst  hunger, 
Saw  her  home's,  her  money's  loss. 
Then  bereft  of  all  life's  comforts 
Cold  and  homeless  forth  she  went 
Like  a  heroine  of  fiction, 
Courage  stopped  the  aching  vent. 

So  the  black  days  dragged  their  length  out, 

So  the  bitter  morning's  rose, 

Roomed  she  in  the  barest  bedrooms 

Clad  in  greatly  mended  clothes. 

Trusted  oft  with  sums  of  money 

When  for  days  she  had  not  fed 

Safely  brought  it  to  its  owner 

Hungry,  famished,  went  to  bed. 

Rooming  with  girls  far  below  her 

Hearing  oft  their  heartless  talk, 

She  refrained  from  being  of  them 

All  alone  her  path  did  walk. 

Then  she  did  not  know  the  reason 

Then  her  native  spirit  led, 

Then  she  did  not  know  that  God  planned 

To  arouse  her  from  the  dead. 

Then  the  darkest  hour  descended, 
Seeming  friends  to  devils  turned; 
All  around  was  blackest  darkness, 
Deep  despair  within  her  burned. 
But  the  darkest  hour  descendeth 
Just  before  the  morning's  birth 
And  her  God  just  then  was  planning 
Greatest  boon  that  comes  to  earth. 


DUNORA  47 

So,  as  His  own  jewels  can  be 
Only  polished  by  His  hand, 
So  Dunora  felt  the  friction 
Needful  to  her  soul's  demand. 
And  when  He  had  finished  with  her, 
Far  the  trials  and  scourgings  ran 
Then  He  brought  her  forth  resplendent, 
Gave  her,  head  crowned,  to  a  man. 

To  a  man — yes  to  the  one  who 
Was  to  know  her  spirit's  flower, 
To  the  one  for  whom  the  Father 
Had  prepared  her  to  that  hour. 
And  when  first  his  eyes  lit  on  her 
Instantly  he  was  aware 
That  a  miracle  of  women 
Stood  before  him  wondrous  fair. 

And  the  soul  within  him  leaped  forth 

To  its  mate,  though  he  knew  not 

That  the  girl  of  girls  then  stood  there 

Led  by  God  unto  that  spot. 

Yet  there  stirred  within  his  heart's  core 

Impulses  not  felt  before, 

And  the  strangest  heartfelt  yearnings 

Made  him  long  to  know  her  more. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

THE   WAIT  AND   THE  RE-MEETING 

VIR  gloried  in  the  thought  that  he  was  so  soon 
to  meet  her  again.  He  sat  down  and  wrote  the 
letter  and  went  to  look  for  her  address  and  for  the 
first  time  remembered  in  his  excitement  of  seeing 
her  again  he  had  forgotten  to  ask  for  the  address 
to  which  to  send  the  letter.  Here  was  the  worst 
situation  yet. 

Forlorn  were  the  days  of  waiting.  Oh  how  could 
he  see  her!  Where  was  she?  The  only  way  that 
he  could  look  at  it  was  that  they  would  meet  some- 
how, somewhere,  soon.  Dunora  was  constantly  in 
Vir's  mind.  Where  in  the  hurrying  crowds  was 
she? 

Vir  earnestly  and  fervently  prayed  that  God 
would  care  for  her  and  restore  her  to  him  at  the 
earliest  fitting  opportunity.  It  became  his  custom 
to  glance  to  right  and  left  as  he  walked  the  streets, 
and,  when  business  permitted,  he  went  into  the 
streets  of  the  city  where  he  had  last  met  her  hoping 
she  might  be  on  the  streets. 

The  time  dragged  by.  Through  Boston's  streets 
his  way  led  him  day  after  day  and  no  sign  of  Dun- 
ora. Yet  he  did  not  despair.  One  bright  day  he 
hurried  up  Sudbury  Street  to  Scollay  Square  and 
walked  up  the  north  side  of  the  street.  Passing 

48 


THE  WAIT  AND  RE-MEETING    49 

Cobb's  Coffee  House  he  turned  to  go  up  Tremont 
Street  and  was  crossing  the  Square  when — Dunora! 
A  crowd  was  passing  at  the  time  and  he  did  not  see 
her  until  she  was  at  his  shoulder  and  it  was  only  out 
of  the  corner  of  his  eye  that  he  saw  her  then.  She 
had  not  seen  him  and  passed  into  Cobb's  to  refresh 
herself  with  a  coffee  drink.  He  followed,  bought  a 
ticket  for  a  cup  of  coffee,  walked  up  to  her  and 
spoke.  She  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

Again  they  had  been  led  together,  and  a  silent 
prayer  of  thanks  went  up  to  the  Great  White  Throne 
whence  all  blessings  flow.  Neither  spoke  of  their 
last  meeting.  From  Dunora's  words  he  could  not 
tell  what  her  feelings  were.  His  joy  at  the  meeting 
sufficiently  recompensed  him  for  what  had  gone  be- 
fore. "Will  you  come  to  dinner  with  me  to-morrow 
evening?"  "Yes." 

Joy !  Joy !  Joy !  He  left  that  place  of  meeting 
with  joy  clothing  his  feet.  Lonely  in  the  extreme 
had  been  his  life  in  the  interim  between  his  meeting 
with  Dunora  before  and  at  this  time.  He  had  lonely 
rooms  in  a  lonely  part  of  the  city,  and  nothing 
savored  of  the  homelike.  His  thoughts  had  been  in 
keeping  with  his  surroundings.  He  then  resolved 
that  all  his  energies  should  be  exercised  in  holding 
on  to  this  girl. 

As  he  went  to  his  rooms  that  evening  the  old  walls 
appeared  clothed  with  a  new  shade  of  color  which 
removed  their  sombreness.  He  had  again  met 
Dunora  and  she  was  to  take  dinner  with  him  on  the 
following  day.  He  slept  restlessly  that  night  and 
awoke  anxious  for  the  evening,  and  the  day's  work 
dragged. 

For  the  sake  of  his  romantic  nature  he  had  ap- 


50       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

pointed  a  place  of  meeting  out  of  doors.  To  hi's 
intense  delight  when  he  approached  the  spot  he  saw 
Dunora  approaching  also. 

Vir  took  the  girl  to  a  fine  up  to  date  restaurant 
on  Tremont  Street  after  finding  out  she  had  never 
eaten  there  before.  The  place  was  beautiful  with 
its  shining  cut  glass,  white  table  linen,  its  waitresses 
dressed  neatly  also  in  pure  white.  The  food  was 
excellent,  served  as  only  people  trained  to  that 
work  know  how  to  serve  food.  Everything  was 
lovely  but — Vir's  table  manners.  Dunora  sat  there 
thinking,  how  can  a  man  so  learned,  so  used  to 
meeting  people  have  such  table  manners — when — 

"Are  you  going  to  be  at  leisure  to-morrow  after- 
noon?" came  from  Vir's  lips.  Dunora  looked  up 
nervously  and  answered,  "I  shall  be  at  leisure."  Little 
did  Vir  know  what  her  thoughts  had  been  when  he 
asked  his  next  question,  "I  should  feel  very  much 
favored  if  you  will  take  dinner  with  me  again  to- 
morrow, I  am  rather  lonely  and  it  would  be  an  ex- 
treme pleasure.  Will  you?"  If  he  had  not  said  he 
was  lonely  it  is  doubtful  what  Dunora  would  have 
said,  but  he  did.  "I  am  glad  to  go  if  it  gives  you 
pleasure.  I  have  always  desired  to  give  pleasure 
to  those  with  whom  I  come  in  contact." 

This  statement  didn't  exactly  please  Vir's  then 
sense  of  egotism.  He  would  have  liked  her  to  say 
that  she  desired  to  give  him  pleasure.  After  dinner 
was  over  they  wended  their  way  to  their  places  of 
abode. 

The  next  day  they  met  at  the  same  place  of  meet- 
ing which  surely  could  not  be  called  a  trysting  place, 
but  had  become  a  lodestone  of  increasing  joy  to  Vir. 
They  went  to  another  restaurant  this  afternoon  and 


THE  WAIT  AND  RE-MEETING    51 

at  the  termination  of  the  dinner  he  asked  to  go  home 
with  her.  She  demurred.  "It  is  a  long  way  from, 
here  to  my  house  and  I  had  rather  you  would  see  it 
later  as  it  is  rented  by  the  man  I  kept  house  for. 
I  would  not  go  there  to-night  only  I  have  a  dog 
there  that  might  not  be  fed  if  I  don't  feed  him." 

Kept  house,  her  house  rented,  did  he  hear  cor- 
rectly? Glory!  he  thought  to  himself.  He  did  not 
demur,  though  he  longed  to  accompany  her  home 
and  there  was  a  growing  and  a  rising  feeling  in  him 
of  desire  to  protect  her,  for  an  intangible  something 
seemed  to  say  she  needed  it.  There  was  a  pitiful 
independence  in  her.  He  was  learning  that  her  in- 
dependence and  self  reliance  were  characteristics  ac- 
quired of  necessity  and,  seeing  more  deeply  into  the 
girl's  character  than  perchance  he  at  once  realized, 
he  knew  her  nature  was  far  more  tender  and  should 
rightly  be  far  more  dependent  than  it  was  on  the 
surface.  Like  a  mine  of  golden  ore  which  gives  only 
an  indication  of  its  hidden  riches  by  its  surface 
manifestations  so  was  Dunora  to  Vir.  There  are 
some  people  who  are  like  gold  mines,  the  surface  in- 
dications of  which  are  most  of  what  there  is  to  them. 
But  Vir  learned  that  Dunora  was  far  from  that 
kind.  The  surface  indications  which  she  gave  were 
but  a  small  promise  of  what  was  beneath,  yet  it  took 
the  hardest  kind  of  mining  to  uncover  the  hidden 
golden  treasure. 

The  next  day  they  met  at  the  same  place  as  be- 
fore and  went  to  the  same  restaurant  where  he 
wrestled  vainly  with  a  skinny  fowl  labeled  on  the 
menu  "Fried  chicken."  Dunora  later  performed 
one  of  her  many  corrective  functions  with  Vir  by 
letting  him  know  how  poor  an  exhibition  he  made 


52        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

of  himself  with  that  chicken.  Following  the  dinner 
they  went  to  the  Maiden  Auditorium  and  witnessed 
"Shore  Acres."  The  scene  of  this  play  is  at  Bar 
Harbor,  Maine,  and  as  Vir  and  Dunora  met  in  the 
State  of  Maine  it  especially  appealed  to  them  both. 
At  this  performance  Vir  first  witnessed  a  manifesta- 
tion of  growing  trust  on  the  part  of  Dunora,  yet 
he  had  waited  and  waited  for  it  long.  Involuntarily, 
surely  the  girl  had,  at  an  especially  rapt  moment, 
given  a  delightful  pressure  to  Vir's  hand. 

The  play,  the  theatre,  the  surroundings  were  all 
forgotten  in  the  blinding  thrill  of  joy  which  over- 
whelmed Vir  Noble.  There  was  nothing  studied  or 
planned  in  that  hand  pressure  and  it  came  from  a 
heart  impulse.  It  exalted  the  man,  it  put  a  new 
halo  around  the  girl  in  his  sight.  He  held  her  hand 
in  his  for  the  first  time. and  the  holding  of  it  sent 
spasm  after  spasm  of  emotion  over  him  as  he  sat 
transfixed  in  the  plush  seat.  Their  eyes  met.  There 
was  a  new  look  in  the  face  of  each. 

The  play  which  they  were  witnessing  was  one  in 
which  the  primal  virtues  were  placed  in  contrast  to 
avarice  and  selfishness  and  honesty  won.  It  was  a 
play  of  real  heart  interest  which  stirred  the  emo- 
tions and  when  it  was  nearing  its  happy  climax  Vir 
ardently  longed  to  be  amid  similar  honest  surround- 
ings with  this  remarkable  girl.  Again  he  asked  her 
if  he  might  escort  her  to  her  suburban  home,  for  he 
longed  to  feel  a  protecting  presence  to  her  but  she 
asked  him  to  permit  her  to  go  home  unaccompanied. 
With  great  reluctance  he  went  to  the  car  with  her 
and  then  turned  to  the  cheerless  streets  and  to  his 
cheerless  rooms. 

But  was  it  so  cheerless  now?    His  hand  which  had 


THE  WAIT  AND  RE-MEETING    53 

seen  so  much  hard  work  had  been  clasped  by  her 
hand.  His  thoughts  were  with  her  and  he  was  to  see 
her  again  the  next  day  and  again  they  were  to  go 
to  dinner  and  to  the  theatre. 

He  worked  briskly  with  rejuvenated  spirit  on  the 
following  day  and  they  met  and  went  to  dinner.  At 
the  Olympia  Theatre  at  Lynn  they  saw  a  perform- 
ance of  combined  moving  pictures  and  vaudeville  and 
one  of  the  vaudeville  offerings  was  of  a  burlesque 
nature  which  exhibited  a  series  of  successive  gro- 
tesque happenings  which  proved  more  and  more 
laughable  as  each  appeared.  It  resulted  in  Vir's 
latent  sense  of  humor  appearing  in  active  form  and 
he  enjoyed  a  season  of  merriment  he  had  not  ex- 
perienced before  for  a  long  time  indeed.  Something 
of  the  tension  relaxed,  something  in  the  girl  made 
him  relax,  something  from  an  unseen  source  gave 
him  merriment  unalloyed. 

During  a  lull  in  the  performance  Dunora  turned 
her  great,  honest,  childlike  eyes  full  upon  Vir  in  a 
perfectly  frank,  utterly  innocent  look  which  drank 
deep  of  his  very  soul.  His  eyes  looked  full  into  hers 
and  as  they  gazed  at  each  other  thus  in  absolute 
simplicity  and  sincerity  Dunora's  little  hand  crept 
into  Vir's  more  fleshy  one  and,  instinctively,  both 
hands  clasped  and  each  hand  pressed  the  other  in  a 
clasp  which  spoke  aloud  in  eloquence  most  vital. 
That  simple  act  made  them  indeed  friends. 

In  this  evening's  entertainment  Dunora  had  a  lady 
friend  come  also.  But  to  Vir  there  was  no  one  pres- 
ent but  Dunora.  That  evening  Dunora  went  with 
the  lady  to  spend  the  night  at  her  house.  Many 
subsequent  nights  were  spent  at  this  lady's  home  by 
the  girl.  Gradually  Vir  became  acquainted  with 


54        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Dunora's  acquaintances.  The  word  acquaintances 
is  used  advisedly  here,  for  Dunora  was  one  of  those 
characters  whose  nature  so  towers  above  ordinary 
characters  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  have  friends 
who  understand  her.  All  her  life  up  to  this  period 
she  had  been  universally  misunderstood  simply  be- 
cause no  one  had  appealed  enough  to  her  for  her  to 
show  her  real  self. 

She  had  admitted  no  one  into  her  confidence  be- 
yond a  certain  point  and  it  took  time  for  her  to 
see  that  Vir  was  of  that  true  sympathetic  nature  to 
understand,  so  could  win  her  confidence.  Yet  after 
that  golden  hour  had  arrived,  an  hour  which  was 
one  of  the  mountain  heights  of  Vir's  life,  when  he 
came  to  that  grand  realization  that  he  had  won  her 
confidence,  he  found  that  winning  was  only  the  be- 
ginning of  the  knowledge  of  how  deep  her  nature 
was,  how  sublime  its  heights.  F'or  each  new  knowl- 
edge but  led  to  one  higher  up  until  in  the  dizzy  alti- 
tudes of  Dunora's  inner  spirit  he  looked  higher  and 
yet  higher  into  the  rarified  purity  of  her  soul. 

Like  only  one  other  great  truth  of  the  universe 
was  she,  and  that  she  humanly  resembled.  Her 
character  and  spirit  were  living  exponents  of  Chris- 
tianity, for  Christianity  differs  from  all  man  made 
religions  because  no  one  can  ever  realize  its  height, 
breadth  or  depth  and  every  mountain  top  in  it  but 
shows  a  higher  mountain  top  beyond. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

IN  THE  BEGINNING 

THERE  is  no   comparison  which    can  be  higher. 
Christianity  thrives  amid  the  most  sterile  sur- 
roundings.     So   did  Dunora.      Christianity  thrusts 
its  head  up  serenely  above  the  storms  of  adversity. 
So  did  Dunora  her  head.     Christianity  is : 

"Like  some  tall  cliff  which  lifts  its  awful  form, 
Far  from  the  vale  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 
Though  round  its  base  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head." 

So  was  Dunora.  Christianity  shines  resplendent 
in  a  world  of  gloom.  So  did  Dunora.  Christianity 
defies  the  temptations  which  besmirch.  So  did  Dun- 
ora. Christianity,  amid  whatever  surroundings,  re- 
tains its  original  virtues.  So  did  Dunora.  Chris- 
tianity grows  more  influential  as  time  progresses;  it 
becomes  an  increasingly  shining  light ;  it  is  a  beacon 
of  hope,  an  anchor  to  the  soul;  it  leavens  as  yeast 
all  who  are  susceptible  to  the  higher  influences.  All 
these  was  Dunora.  But  what  of  the  commencement 
of  this  life  of  Dunora's.  Corroborated  by  many 
witnesses  and  revealed  by  circumstance  and  personal 
revelation,  it  presented  a  tale  which  should  be  more 
useful  to  the  world  than  that  of  any  hero  who 

55 


56        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

fought  on  blood  wet  field,  for  the  bitterest  fight  on 
earth  is  not  the  fight  amid  the  din  of  battle  where 
men  become  beside  themselves  with  frenzy  and  are 
impelled  by  their  surging  blood  to  deeds  of  fury,  but 
the  sternest  fight  of  all  is  such  as  Dunora  fought 
and  the  publishing  of  the  details  of  that  fight  should 
be  an  age  long  inspiration  to  those  who  struggle  up- 
ward against  Satan,  while  yet  Satan  is  permitted  to 
exist.  It  should  be  a  lasting  help  to  the  beset  of 
earth  to  prove  to  them  that  human  flesh  and  blood 
can  win  against  overwhelming  odds  and  that  the  win- 
ner will  become  a  king  or  queen  indeed.  The  fight 
is  worth  all  the  struggle,  it  must  precede  every 
crown. 

At  the  tender  year  of  two  Dunora  was  adopted. 
From  whence  and  the  reasons  for  it  will  appear 
later  in  this  story.  She  was  totally  different  from 
the  people  who  adopted  her  and  grew  from  year  to 
year  adored  by  the  neighborhood  and  manifestly  dis- 
liked by  her  foster  parents  whom  she  for  several 
years  believed  to  be  her  real  parents.  These  foster 
parents  had  an  own  son  who  was  everywhere  favored 
while  disfavor  was  heaped  upon  the  poor  little  life 
of  Dunora.  The  little  lassie  wondered  and  wondered 
why  her  brother  was  heaped  with  kindness  and  she 
with  abuse.  Her  parents  loaded  her  with  work  when 
her  weak  little  body  could  hardly  stagger  under  it 
and  her  starved  life  became  in  reality  what  had  only 
before  lived  in  fiction  in  the  works  of  the  great  mas- 
ters of  literature. 

When  hardly  more  than  of  age  sufficient  to  talk 
distinctly  she  was  placed  up  on  a  raised  box  before 
the  kitchen  sink  to  wash  the  dishes  three  times  a 
day  for  ten  people,  more  or  less.  These  people, 


IN  THE  BEGINNING  57 

church  members,  went  through  the  legal  form  of 
adoption  merely  to  get  a  slave.  Never  once  did  the 
mother  say,  "I'll  help  you  with  those  dishes  so  that 
you  can  go  out  to  play,"  but  instead,  "Hurry  up 
and  wash  those  dishes  and  go  to  bed." 

Night  after  night  the  dear  little  body  went  ex- 
hausted to  her  attic  room  to  cry  herself  to  sleep. 
She  was  denied  kindness,  denied  love,  denied  the  op- 
portunity to  play  with  other  girls,  denied  any  of  the 
beauties  of  life  and  beaten  for  absolutely  excusable 
childish  offences  or  no  offences  at  all.  The  North 
rose  in  righteous  anger  fifty  years  ago  and  spent 
millions  in  lives  and  money  to  wipe  out  a  system  of 
slavery  less  hideous  than  was  instanced  in  this  case. 

In  those  furtive  occasions  in  which  she  could  steal 
away  to  enjoy  the  liberty  God  gave  her  and  her 
cruel  parents  denied,  she  had  to  devise  her  own  means 
of  pleasure.  In  this  her  character  of  independence 
was  being  formed  which  proved  to  be  very  necessary 
in  later  years.  A  house  standing  near  the  one  in 
which  her  parents  lived,  Dunora  was  accustomed  to 
call  back  and  forth  to  another  but  older  girl  so  as 
to  compare  notes  as  to  their  progress  in  dishes 
washed.  "How  many  have  you  to  wash?"  called  the 
little  Dunora.  "Oh,  lots,"  came  the  reply.  A  little 
later  came,  "I  have  washed  ten.  How  many  have 
you?"  "Eight."  "Oh,  I  beat  you,"  and  the  little 
childish  face  broke  into  a  smile,  one  of  those  rare 
smiles  which  visited  it  and  a  smile  caused  by  the 
knowledge  of  surpassing  another  being  in  work  ac- 
complished. 

Living  her  own  life  concealed  within  itself  and 
planning  her  own  plans  without  consultation  with 
any  one  she  devised  strange  means  of  entertainment. 


58       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

This  was  enforced  upon  her  for  the  reason  that 
whenever  she  did  what  was  usual  and  started  to  ask 
her  mother  anything  the  conversation  was  always  as 

follows :  "Mother,  may  I :  "No  you  can't. 

You  attend  to  your  work." 

Think  of  it!  That  was  the  method  of  treatment 
of  one  of  the  dearest  bits  of  femininity  in  existence 
and  from  the  hands  of  people  who  called  themselves 
Christian.  And  this  because,  perchance,  she  was  so 
very  wicked  as  to  be  an  orphan  and  didn't  know  it. 
It  certainly  seems  at  least  worthy  of  comment  that 
church  members  in  what  is  called  good  standing 
should  have  been  so  little  influenced  by  the  real 
teachings  of  Christ  and  also  should  have  failed  ut- 
terly to  understand  the  parable  of  the  Good  Samari- 
tan. Suppose  every  inhabitant  of  just  one  little 
village  in  all  this  earth  should  practice  the  Golden 
Rule.  It  would  become  the  most  famous  village  on 
earth  and  would  be  a  lodestone  which  would  attract 
the  nations  of  the  world  to  it. 

Wherever  a  life  with  any  portion  of  loving  im- 
pulses in  it  exists  let  that  one  who  has  influence  upon 
it  be  sure  to  fertilize  the  roots  of  all  that  love  and 
in  so  doing  they  will  exert  a  greater  influence  upon 
the  uplift  of  the  world  than  scores  of  Napoleons. 
One  loving  life  means  more  to  humanity  than  a  thou- 
sand generals,  a  nation  of  statesmen  or  the  assembled 
colleges  of  earth.  Beware  of  stunting  a  young  life 
of  a  loving  nature! 

Dunora  developed  into  an  utterly  winsome  child. 
She  began  to  be  adored  by  the  neighbors  in  pro- 
portion as  she  was  abused,  misunderstood  and  starved 
of  heart  by  her  foster  parents.  As  each  day  dawned 
it  but  meant  another  daylight  season  of  unremit- 


IN  THE  BEGINNING  59 

ting  toil  for  little  Dunora.  In  addition  to  washing 
the  dishes  for  ten  people,  she  had  the  floors  to  wash, 
the  carpets  to  sweep,  the  beds  to  make  and  the 
woodbox  to  fill  daily.  When  one  piece  of  work  was 
done  the  tired  little  face  would  look  up  to  her  mother 
and  start  the  request  for  just  one  atom  of  play  or 
one  little  rest.  The  little  lips  would  start  the  re- 
quest, "Mother,  may  I —  -"  "No,  you  can't!  Keep 
at  your  work.  There  is  something  more  to  do." 
Inhuman  as  it  may  seem  in  this  enlightened  age  and 
in  such  an  American  state  as  the  State  of  Maine 
there  actually  existed  such  people  who  really  did 
heap  upon  the  innocent  head  of  motherless  and 
fatherless  Dunora  Whitney  the  labor  which  they, 
grown  people,  were  too  lazy  to  do  themselves  and 
who  inflicted  far  worse  things  than  those  already 
mentioned. 

Of  all  crimes  that  can  be  perpetrated  those 
against  womankind  are  the  most  criminal.  There 
was  a  time  when  there  was  a  matriarchate  when 
women  were  the  ruling  sex.  Then  the  world  en- 
joyed a  season  of  great  freedom  from  all  the  crimes 
perpetrated  since  man,  by  physical  force,  took  the 
helm.  The  matriarchate  is  to  be  enacted  again. 
The  man  or  woman  who  will  in  any  way  injure  or 
attempt  to  injure  another  woman  is  a  criminal  in- 
deed. 

At  the  age  of  five  the  little  Dunora  was  sent  to 
school.  Her  speech  was  of  that  childish  dialect 
which  gripped  at  the  heart  strings. 

When  she  was  far  too  young  to  herself  take  part 
in  the  exercises  her  foster  parents  were  invited  to 
her  school  to  see  the  annual  exercises  at  which  some 
of  the  older  children  were  to  speak  from  the  plat- 


60       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

form.  With  stolid  little  face  and  big,  wide  eyes 
the  little  Dunora  watched  the  proceedings.  There 
was  a  lull  in  the  speaking  and  a  hesitancy  on  the 
part  of  the  next  speaker  to  mount  the  platform.  At 
once  Dunora  stepped  upon  the  platform,  bowed  and 
said: 

"Dere  was  a  wittle  berd  sat  on  a  tig. 

'Twas  a  tunnin  wittle  berd  dat  sat  on  dat  tig." 

She  won  the  entire  school  and  audience.  They 
crowded  up  around  her  and  mothers  from  the  whole 
district  smothered  her  in  kisses.  A  loving  nature 
always  fosters  love  except  in  foster  parents.  How 
could  even  the  hearts  of  the  parents  of  Dunora  have 
kept  from  surrender  to  the  great  big  heart  of  love 
in  the  artless,  innocent  child.  The  conquering  hero, 
for  Dunora  had  conquered  on  the  battle  field  of  the 
platform,  was  literally  covered  with  flowers. 

But  her  energy  was  evidenced  in  other  directions 
for  the  restless  little  body  seized  every  opportunity 
to  work  off  her  suppressed  feelings.  Even  the  crush- 
ing weight  of  the  labor  heaped  upon  her  in  her  par- 
ents' home  only  served  to  compress  her  vitality  and 
not  to  expend  it. 

In  some  days  there  were  periods  of  time  when 
she  could  play  and  her  play  was  ingenious.  Be- 
tween the  closing  of  school  and  the  early  coming 
of  the  hour  for  her  work  for  the  supper  for  the 
grown  people  the  poor  little  soul  showed  her  ma- 
ternal instinct  by  rounding  up  her  train  of  youth- 
ful retainers  who  went  to  school  with  her  and  mak- 
ing them  go  to  school  to  her  as  teacher.  Doorsteps 
were  the  usual  scene  of  the  school  sessions  and  also 


IN  THE  BEGINNING  61 

Dunora's  playhouse.  This  teaching  was  such  real 
and  earnest  work  that  her  scholars  were  advanced 
in  the  real  school  because  of  it.  This  is  stated  as  a 
mere  statement,  but  weigh  it.  A  mere  girl  of  slightly 
over  five  being  so  intelligent  that  at  that  early  age 
she  voluntarily  took  under  her  teaching  children  of 
her  own  age  and  caused  them  to  skip  grades. 

At  other  times  like  a  forest  fairy  she  found  her 
joys  in  the  fields  and  forests  and  her  places  of  play 
were  in  the  aisles  of  the  great  church  of  the  woods 
where  the  first  worship  of  the  Almighty  occurred. 
There  she  learned  the  natural  God  which  in  later 
years  made  her  unaffected  by  the  unnatural  God 
which  people  of  various  schools  of  belief  born  within 
brick  or  wooden  walls  tried  to  impose  upon  her. 

What  could  Dunora  have  seen  in  the  great  cathe- 
dral of  the  forest  aisles  and  what  did  she  see?  She 
saw  them  buried  deep  in  the  white  mantle  of  snow 
covering  every  rotting  leaf  and  dead  limb  with  the 
pure  whiteness  of  perfect  purity  as  the  mantle  of 
Christ's  pure  righteousness  covers  these  sinful  bodies 
of  ours  so  they  too  may  become  white  as  the  driven 
snow  and  be  presented  faultless  before  the  bar  of 
God  Almighty.  And,  too,  beneath  the  mantle  of 
snow,  a  type  of  the  shroud  of  death,  she  beheld  the 
resurrection  of  the  Spring  and  knew  the  unseen 
Power  which  caused  that  resurrection.  And  her 
childish  heart  told  her  that  as  all  nature  dies  and  is 
resurrected  so  all  natural  things  die  and  are  resur- 
rected and  no  man  can  take  to  himself  any  power 
which  shall  in  any  way  direct  God  as  to  what  He 
shall  do  with  dead  nature  or  dead  natural  creations. 
If  men  would  only  read  nature  with  natural  eyes 
and  find  the  lessons  taught  there  they  could  not  be 


62        ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

deceived  by  any  men  or  body  of  men  who  took  unto 
themselves  powers  they  did  not  possess  and  hood- 
winked people  to  believe  a  sham. 

Many  other  things  the  childish  heart  of  Dunora 
learned  in  her  hours  of  solitude  with  nature.  She 
learned  how  God  fed  the  birds  of  the  air  and  flowers 
of  the  field  and  trees  of  the  forest  and  therefore 
would  her.  She  learned  the  lesson  that  out  of  what 
we  call  the  dirty  earth  God  raised  the  purest  flowers 
and  that  therefore  out  of  the  humblest  human  be- 
ginnings the  Almighty  can  cause  to  grow  the  noblest 
human  beings.  And  then  also  she  learned  from  see- 
ing the  polished  round  stones  that  only  by  friction 
can  stones,  or  character,  become  round  and  smooth 
and  beautiful. 

As  a  consequence  of  these  lessons  learned  at  first 
hand  Dunora  acquired  a  knowledge  which  made  her 
seem  all  the  more  uncanny  to  creed  bound  neighbors. 
She  also  was  a  most  natural  little  girl  and  her  child- 
ish efforts  to  always  appear  guiltless  of  doing  what 
often  her  wayward  fancy  made  her  do  were  very 
funny  and  very  winning. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

THE    WEE    LASSIE 

DUNORA,"  and  Mrs.  Whitney  stamped  her  foot 
in  anger,  "didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  cut  your 
hair!"  The  wee  face  of  the  orphan  girl  took  on  a 
wistful  expression  mixed  with  one  of  surprise.  "Yes, 
mama,  but  don't  you  s'pose  a  wittle  tunnin  mouse 
just  tame  and  bit  it  off  when  I  was  asleep?"  Who 
would  not  laugh  at  that  childish  effort?  But  Mrs. 
Whitney  knew  not  how  to  get  ahead  of  that  girlish 
brain.  In  fact  never  a  day  passed  but  she  was  put  to 
her  wit's  end  to  know  how  to  keep  from  being  out- 
witted. The  reason  of  the  absence  of  love  between 
Dunora  and  her  foster  parents  may  be  partially  ac- 
counted for  by  one  set  of  reasons  having  to  do  with 
the  personal  character  of  her  parents  and  by  another 
reasoning  on  account  of  the  very  first  reception  the 
poor  orphan  lassie  received  when  robbed  of  real 
parents  and  cast  on  the  world  alone  and  oh,  so 
loving. 

Into  the  new  home  the  wee  lass  came  at  the  tender 
age  of  two  years.  There  had  been  a  court  ruling 
as  to  who  should  have  her.  Several  families  had  de- 
sired to  bring  her  up.  As  the  little  girl  entered 
the  new  home  all  bewilderment  and  all  innocence,  the 
woman  who  was  to  act  in  place  of  her  dear  dead 
mother  stood  before  her.  With  a  heart  brimming 

63 


64       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

with  love,  Dunora's  little  arms  went  up  to  the  foster 
parent  asking  dumbly  to  be  taken  up  and  loved. 
Her  foster  mother  stepped  back  and  folded  her  arms 
across  her  chest.  Dunora  looked  a  moment  in  be- 
wildered surprise,  turned  on  her  heel  and  went  across 
the  room  to  play  with  her  doll.  From  that  moment 
the  little  child  saw  the  hopelessness  of  arousing  love 
in  that  heart.  Her  own  love  was  crushed  at  its 
birth  by  the  sternness  of  her  foster  mother. 

The  only  place  in  which  she  could  give  vent  to 
her  overflowing  spirits  was  in  school,  for  she  was  not 
even  allowed  outside  of  the  yard  to  play.  Two 
teachers  in  the  little  natty  grammar  school  of  Gar- 
diner will  long  remember  the  little  girl  whom  they 
loved  and  who  was  their  favorite  scholar. 

Dunora's  daily  program  was  to  arise  at  about 
five,  clear  up  the  house,  set  the  breakfast  table,  feed 
the  hens,  pig  and  cow  and  drive  the  cow  to  pasture. 
Then  she  ate  breakfast,  washed  all  the  dishes,  swept 
the  downstairs  rooms  and  then  made  her  bed.  After 
this  she  walked  two  miles  to  school.  Subsequent 
to  the  morning  session  she  walked  home  and  there 
had  to  get  her  own  dinner,  as  her  mother  thought  it 
hardly  worth  while  to  get  anything  warm  for  her. 

Then  it  was  two  miles  return  to  school  after  the 
noon  dishes  were  washed.  This  made  eight  miles 
walked  each  day  to  and  from  school  Spring  and 
Autumn.  In  the  Winter,  Dunora  took  a  lunch  which 
she  herself  prepared  and  it  was  usually  eaten  away 
from  other  pupils  who  brought  lunches  put  up  by 
fond  mamas.  Dunora  did  this  for  fear  lest  the 
scholars  laugh  at  hers.  It  consisted  of  almost  any 
leftovers  she  was  fortunate  enough  to  find.  How 
quickly  Dunora  would  have  eaten  even  that  poor 


THE  WEE  LASSIE  65 

food  smilingly  if  her  mother  had  but  shown  regard 
and  kissed  her  each  morning  when  starting  alone  for 
school. 

At  school  her  bubbling  spirits  made  her  the  quick 
wit  of  the  schoolroom.  One  day  her  teacher  asked 
her  what  she  had  in  her  lunch  basket.  "Grub !"  re- 
plied the  child.  "Dunora  Whitney,  answer  me  prop- 
erly. You  know  what  you  should  say.  What  have 
you  in  your  lunch  basket?"  "Victuals!"  came  the 
prompt  response.  The  scholars  burst  into  an  au- 
dible titter.  "Dunora,  march  out  into  the  hallway 
and  stay  there  until  you  can  tell  me  properly  what 
you  have  in  your  lunch  box."  Dunora  marched  in 
military  fashion  to  the  outer  hall. 

A  short  time  thereafter  the  teacher  went  out  in 
the  hallway  and  asked  the  little  girl  if  she  was  ready 
to  come  in  and  stand  before  the  school  to  tell  in 
proper  words  what  she  had  in  her  lunch  box.  Dunora 
replied  that  she  was  prepared  to  do  so. 

In  walked  teacher  and  pupil.  The  stage  was  set 
for  the  great  aqt  of  repentance  and  all  the  scholars 
waited  with  breathless  anticipation  for  Dunora 
Whitney  to  humble  herself.  She  stood  calmly  fac- 
ing the  school.  "Dunora  Whitney,"  asked  the 
teacher  very  solemnly,  "what  have  you  got  in  your 
lunch  box?"  "Nothing,"  came  the  astonishing  re- 
ply. The  teacher  lost  her  poise.  "Why  you  have 
food  in  it,  haven't  you?"  she  hurriedly  asked.  The 
little  girl  smiled.  "No,  I  ate  it  in  the  hall." 

For  quite  a  time  even  extending  into  many  weeks 
Dunora  sat  in  the  front  row  of  seats  exactly  under 
the  eye  of  the  teacher.  She  was  a  model  pupil  and 
gained  the  confidence  of  her  instructor.  A  number 
of  boys  in  the  rear  of  the  room  were  usually  occu- 


66       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

pied  with  schemes  to  arouse  excitement  and  the 
teacher  was  perplexed  as  to  how  to  surmount  the 
difficulty.  A  happy  thought  came  to  her. 

"Dunora !"  she  called  one  day,  "Come  here  !'r  Dun- 
ora obeyed.  "Dunora,  you  have  been  a  model  child. 
I  have  had  you  here  on  the  front  seat  for  so  long 
a  time  that  I  have  come  to  know  you  and  believe  you 
are  the  very  one  I  should  place  among  those  unruly 
boys  in  the  rear  of  the  room  so  that  your  good  ex- 
ample may  influence  them  to  better  behaviour.  You 
may  come  with  me  and  take  a  seat  there." 

Dunora  made  no  reply,  but  silently  followed  the 
teacher  to  the  seat  assigned  where  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  boys.  Dunora  had  made  no  promises 
and  she  saw  a  golden  opportunity  to  raise  the  safety 
valve  of  her  bubbling  spirits  which  were  made  to 
seethe  all  the  more  violently  because  of  their  being 
crushed  down  at  home. 

For  some  time  after  her  being  seated  in  the  rear 
of  the  room  her  influence  surely  subdued  the  boys. 
But  not  for  long.  Snickers  became  audible.  "What 
are  you  snickering  at?"  demanded  the  teacher  of 
one  of  the  boys.  "Nuthin !"  he  responded,  not  being 
willing  to  tell  tales  about  a  girl.  Soon  the  teacher 
would  have  to  speak  again.  "Dunora,  what  have 
you  back  of  that  geography?"  An  innocent  little 
j^ace  peeped  up  in  bewilderment  and  the  geography 
which  had  been  upraised  was  carefully  closed. 
"Geogafy,  Miss  Cannon?  Why  nuthing."  When 
the  inquisitive  eyes  of  the  teacher  were  withdrawn  the 
geography  was  reopened  and  the  beetles,  caterpillars, 
and  various  kinds  of  bugs  fell  down  and  performed 
again.  With  them  Dunora  had  also  a  rag  doll  with 
hair  of  corn  silk,  the  doll  being  the  work  of  her  own 


THE  WEE  LASSIE  67 

hands.  The  rag  dolls  were  most  laughable  for  they 
were  made  of  handkerchiefs  capable  of  all  kinds  of 
ludicrous  movements.  The  handkerchiefs  were 
usually  borrowed  ones  which  were  subsequently  re- 
turned to  their  owners  in  the  form  of  dolls  until 
the  whole  school  or  a  good  portion  of  it  had  per- 
forming mannikins.  Dunora  was  never  caught  in 
this  innocent  play. 

Naturally  a  girl  of  so  great  activity  was  very 
bright  mentally  and  was  one  of  the  best  little 
speakers  in  the  school.  At  every  school  exhibition 
Dunora's  name  was  prominent  on  the  program.  At 
about  this  age  Dunora  was  accustomed  to  go  bare- 
footed in  the  Summer  or  else  be  obliged  to  earn  her 
own  hosiery.  By  picking  blueberries  with  bare  and 
bramble  torn  legs  she  earned  enough  to  buy  herself 
stockings  full  of  open  work  which  especially  pleased 
her  and  filled  other  children  with  envy.  Surely  thus 
early  were  the  hard  necessities  of  life  brought  home 
to  the  little  girl. 

In  our  mind's  eye  there  may  have  come  at  this 
time  a  mental  picture  of  the  scenery  amid  which 
these  acts  were  performed  yet  the  mental  idea  may 
be  entirely  wrong.  Let  us  place  before  ourselves 
the  actual  scene. 

As  you  enter  Gardiner,  Maine,  from  the  railroad 
station  and  pass  across  Water  Street  which  parallels 
the  Kennebec,  the  traveller  at  once  begins  to  ascend 
a  great  hill,  it  being  a  portion  of  that  long  hill 
which  extends  into  many  Maine  counties  and  acts  as 
a  wind  break  for  the  blue  river  below. 

A  stranger  is  very  apt  to  misjudge  these  Ken- 
nebec river  cities  by  forming  that  judgment  from 
seeing  only  the  accessible  business  street  which  is  al- 


68       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

most  universally  called  Water  Street.  Let  the 
stranger  ascend  one  of  the  streets  leading  directly 
away  from  the  river  and  up  the  paralleling  hill  and 
he  will  discover  beauties  unsurpassed  in  New  Eng- 
land. In  Gardiner  you  almost  at  once  come  to  great 
canopying  elms.  If  you  have  not  learned  otherwise 
you  may  think  that  the  largest  and  finest  elms  are 
in  southern  New  England  where  the  climate  is 
warmer  but  a  journey  to  the  north  and  especially  to 
Gardiner,  will  prove  that  you  are  wrong. 

Substantial  houses  line  these  ascending  streets, 
each  groomed  with  a  neatness  which  denotes  thrift 
and  home  love  and  each  of  these  homes  is  shaded  by 
great  trees  which  silently  speak  of  the  foresight  of 
some  previous  resident  long  since  having  finished  his 
earthly_mission. 

Ascending  the  street  we  have  mentioned  we  come 
to  a  little  horizontal  platform  in  the  ascent  where 
a  street  passes  off  at  right  angles.  It  would  seem 
that  this  were  provided  like  a  landing  in  a  flight  of 
stairs  in  order  to  give  the  climber  a  breathing  spell. 

Beginning  the  upward  climb  again  we  come  to  one 
of  the  prettiest  parks  imaginable  where  we  will  be 
very  willing  to  rest  beneath  the  cool  shade  and  enjoy 
the  flitting  shadows  of  the  rustling  leaves  playing  on 
the  greensward  or  ricochetting  on  the  dimpling 
waters  of  the  fountain's  pool. 

But  the  journey  leads  beyond  to  the  mighty  but- 
tresses of  Iron  Mine  Hill  where  grows  the  giant  pine 
which  from  time  immemorial  has  defied  the  stormy 
blasts  of  old  New  England  and,  if  the  surrounding 
panorama  were  seascape  instead  of  landscape,  would 
have  been  the  beacon  by  which  mariners  would  have 
shaped  their  course. 


THE  WEE  LASSIE  69 

And  now  that  same  road  which  extends  up  the 
river  paralleling  hill  and  by  the  park  leads  you  out 
into  the  country  and  soon  it  passes  fallow  farms 
where,  in  Spring,  the  bobolink  chortles  to  his  mate 
and,  occasionally,  the  bald  eagle  soars  overhead. 
Alongside  the  farms  the  elms  are  replaced  by  great 
maples  and,  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  habitat 
of  the  maples  stands  the  natty  red  brick  school- 
house  where  Dunora  Whitney  went  to  school. 

During  these  early  years  Dunora  had  but  one  real 
playmate  among  the  girls.  Rena  was  her  name  and 
she  lived  in  a  farm  house  so  near  that  the  two  could 
speak  back  and  forth.  Occasionally  the  mother  of 
Rena  would  come  over  to  the  Whitneys  and  ask  if 
Dunora  might  come  over  to  play.  This  request  was 
usually  granted  and  there  Dunora  had  about  the 
only  joy  of  her  childish  life.  Rena  and  she  were 
bosom  friends  and  shared  confidences.  One  day 
when  Dunora  was  calling  Rena  said,  "Oh,  Dunora, 
just  think,  I  am  learning  to  iron."  "Learning  to 
iron,"  exclaimed  the  astonished  Dunora.  "Learning! 
Why  I  don't  remember  when  I  didn't  know  how.'* 
She  was  then  about  eight.  And  it  was  a  fact  that 
even  at  that  age  the  neighbors  brought  in  their 
fancy  ironing  for  her  to  do  and  paid  her  pennies 
for  doing  it. 

In  Rena's  great  barn  a  big  swing  had  been  placed 
and  the  two  little  girls  swung  there  to  their  hearts 
content.  Many  a  day  they  vied  with  each  other  to 
see  which  could  swing  higher  among  the  rafters.  And 
then  the  goat.  What  a  knowing  goat  it  was  with 
an  appetite  which  attacked  anything  and  every- 
thing, even  to  the  girls'  clothes.  A  little  two-wheeled 
cart  had  been  arranged  and  the  usual  route  over 


70       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

which  the  goat  carried  them  was  down  the  hill  for 
a  certain  distance  to  a  certain  spot  beyond  which 
no  persuasion  could  make  him  venture.  In  his  goat- 
ish brain  there  existed  a  seeming  delusion  which 
made  it  very  necessary  to  proceed  no  further  than 
that  spot.  Upon  arrival  at  that  spot  he  promptly 
turned  sharply  to  one  side  always  spilling  out  the 
occupants.  As  the  cart  was  so  small  the  two  little 
girls  had  difficulty  in  squeezing  into  it  and  when 
they  did  so  they  made  two  human  sandwiches  with 
very  little  air  sandwiched  between  their  limbs  and 
bodies.  After  spilling  them  out,  always  on  the  same 
rock,  his  goatship  would  canter  back  to  the  hilltop 
expecting  them  to  follow  only  to  be  respilled. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

DUNORA'S  GIRLHOOD  HOME 

THE  scene  of  Dunora's  girlhood  activities  on 
Iron  Mine  Hill  suggested  anything  but  the 
bloodless  tragedy  enacted  there.  In  passing  it  of- 
fers an  opportunity,  perhaps  best  not  to  pass,  of  re- 
marking what  a  world  this  would  be  if  the  human 
portion  of  it  were  always  of  loving  natures.  Love  is 
the  antagonist  of  selfishness.  Dunora's  nature  was 
founded  on  love  and  she  therefore  could  not  be  and 
was  not  selfish.  The  horrors  of  present  existence  are 
all  the  outcome  of  selfishness  in  individual,  govern- 
ment or  corporate  form. 

After  passing  the  red  brick  schoolhouse  on  the 
road  from  the  Gardiner  railroad  station,  if  you  wish 
to  reach  Dunora's  girlhood  home  you  must  continue 
in  a  westerly  direction  past  more  than  one  sunny 
home  until  another  street  crosses  at  an  acute  angle 
and  extends  easterly  back  over  Iron  Mine  Hill  down 
to  and  across  Cobbosseecontee  Stream.  Shortly 
after  turning  to  the  right  onto  this  new  street  you 
will  come  to  a  white  house  facing  north  and  this  was 
the  home  of  Dunora.  It  is  the  second  house  on  the 
right  after  turning  the  corner. 

In  the  corner  of  the  yard  stands  a  pump  the 
handle  of  which  was  often  worked  by  Dunora's 
youthful  hands.  Back  of  the  pump  and  between  the 

71 


72       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

western  fence  and  the  house  is  the  attached  barn 
with  its  many  nooks  and  corners  offering  chances 
for  hide  and  seek  and  such  games.  From  hence  every 
morning  Dunora  took  the  cow  and  thither  she  drove 
her  at  evening.  Here  also  her  little  secrets  were 
told  to  the  never  gossiping  walls  more  kindly  than 
human  ears  which  would  not  listen  or  understand  if 
they  did  listen. 

The  house  is  planned  to  have  five  rooms  on  the 
first  floor  and  five  on  the  second.  On  the  first  floor 
are  the  kitchen,  dining  room,  sitting  room,  bedroom 
and  parlor  and  on  the  second  floor  are  the  front 
bedroom,  middle  bedroom,  bedroom  under  the  eaves 
where  Dunora  slept,  bathroom  and  unfinished  attic. 

In  the  parlor  slept  Dunora's  grandfather  who 
filled  the  room  with  his  trunks  and  belongings.  This 
man  was  Dunora's  foster  father's  father.  One  of 
his  great  passions  was  his  absolute  knowledge  of  his 
possession  of  a  through  trip  ticket  to  heaven.  He 
constantly  brought  up  this  subject.  At  the  dining 
table  one  day  he  got  excited  on  the  subject  and 
spearing  a  piece  of  beefsteak  on  his  fork  he  raised 
it  upward  and  exclaimed :  "I  am  as  sure  of  going  to 
heaven  as  I  am  of  eating  this  piece  of  beefsteak !" 
Dunora  seized  the  beefsteak  from  his  fork  and  swal- 
lowed it.  It  may  be  added  that  at  this  writing  the 
old  gentleman  is  yet  in  the  land  of  the  living,  al- 
though considerably  over  ninety,  there  seeming  to 
be  reluctance  on  the  part  of  the  powers  that  be  to 
dispatch  the  parlor  car  on  which  he  feels  he  is  so 
sure  to  travel.  It  surely  seems  that  the  heavenly 
hosts  are  not  over  anxious  to  associate  with  him 
and  we  may  infer  that  his  life  was  not  good  for 
only  the  good  die  young.  In  fact  three  of  his  wives 


DUNORA'S  GIRLHOOD  HOME    73 

died  from  abuse.  Yet  of  all  the  family  associated 
with  Dunora  this  old  man  was  the  only  one  who 
showed  any  love  for  her. 

Dunora's  mother  was  entirely  heartless  as  to  the 
little  girl's  feelings.  Every  dainty  was  saved  for 
her  own  son  and  kept  from  Dunora.  This  mother 
would  bring  home  oranges  from  the  store  and  hide 
them  away  so  that  Dunora  would  not  find  them,  and 
when  the  little  girl  was  not  near  the  mother  would 
bring  them  out  and  give  them  to  her  son. 

Why  should  she  be  kind  to  the  little  waif  on  life's 
bitter  cold  sea.  She  had  committed  the  unforgivable 
crime  of  becoming  an  orphan.  The  parents  who 
had  adopted  Dunora  were  old  school  Baptists.  In 
their  utterly  loveless  faith  and  creed  Dunora  was 
born  accursed  of  God  and  predestined  to  damnation, 
so  why  heap  affection  uselessly  on  one  whom  God  had 
damned?  And  they  went  down  on  their  holy  knees 
and  thanked  their  God  that  in  His  great  mercy  He 
had  ordained  that  only  old  school  Baptists  should 
become  God's  elect  and  that  the  rest  of  the  world  He 
had  also  ordained  to  damnation.  Oh,  God,  how  great 
and  damnable  works  of  the  devil  are  done  in  Thy 
name. 

And  these  people  deluded  themselves  into  the 
belief  that  a  God  worthy  of  worship  had  foreor- 
dained that  all  but  old  school  Baptists  were  damned 
to  not  only  damnation  but  never  ending  torment 
for  absolutely  no  reason  at  all.  Simply  God  was 
such  an  inhuman  beast  that  no  human  being  could 
think  up  a  devilish  enough  torment  with  which  to 
equal  the  torture  God  would  inflict  for  His  pleasure. 

In  one  way  and  another  this  was  directly  and  in- 
directly dinned  into  Dunora's  ears  and  she  was 


74       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

made  to  understand  that  no  matter  how  good  she 
was  it  would  make  no  difference  with  her  eternal  des- 
tiny. She  was  born  damned  and  she  would  stay 
damned.  With  this  entire  lack  of  incentive  to  do  or 
be  good  is  it  not  a  miracle  of  God  and  a  marvellous 
character  of  Dunora  that  she  was  and  is  good? 

And  all  this  time  the  little  Dunora  was  entirely 
unaware  that  these  people  were  no  more  relation 
to  her  than  that  Mrs.  Whitney  was  Dunora's  real 
father's  sister.  Dunora  all  the  time  thought  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whitney  were  her  real  father  and 
mother  and  that  consequently  her  own  name  was 
really  Whitney.  And  she  wondered  and  wondered 
why  she  was  not  loved.  In  her  little  mind  she  again 
and  again  pondered  and  tried  to  decide  why  her 
brother  was  always  preferred  before  herself  and 
why  God  was  such  a  cruel,  heartless  and  fiendish 
Being  as  to  foreordain  that  innocent  people  unborn 
should  be  precondemned  to  everlasting  damnation. 
And  again  and  again  when  she  was  taken  to  church 
the  elder,  as  he  was  called,  preached  the  brutal  doc- 
trine that  only  the  church  would  be  saved  from  the 
world's  condemnation  and  that  the  old  school  Bap- 
tists were  the  Church.  In  Dunora's  mind,  however, 
there  was  born  an  inherent  common  sense  and  com- 
mon loving  kindness  which  told  her  differently.  In 
her  little  bed  at  night  her  first  prayer  was,  "Oh,  God, 
why  did  you  let  me  be  born?  Why  did  you  let  me 
be  born  if  you  were  to  torture  me  for  your  own 
pleasure?  Oh  you  can't  be  that  kind  of  a  God." 

She  knew,  down  deep  under  the  cover  of  her  sub- 
conscious self,  that  her  parents  did  not  know  God. 

Eight  miles  to  the  south  and  in  the  city  of  Rich- 
mond, Maine,  lived  Dunora's  own  brother.  At  the 


DUNORA'S  GIRLHOOD  HOME    75 

time  of  Dunora's  adoption  by  the  Whitney  family, 
her  brother  Eugene  had  been  adopted  by  a  family  in 
Richmond.  The  two  families  visited  each  other  at 
times  and  Dunora  was  told  that  Eugene  was  her 
cousin.  Time  after  time  the  brother  and  sister  were 
together  not  knowing  the  closeness  of  their  relation. 
And,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature,  there  sprang 
up  an  affection  between  the  two  which  should  have 
been.  "Mama,"  more  than  once  said  Dunora,  "why 
is  it  that  I  like  Eugene  so  much  better  than  I  do  my 
own  brother?"  But  the  mother  never  told  the  true 
reason.  Deceit  always  brings  its  penalty  and,  years 
later,  it  brought  a  terrible  penalty  to  Mrs.  Whitney. 

As  has  been  at  least  indicated,  back  of  Dunora's 
feeling  that  she  had  not  been  introduced  to  the  true 
God,  there  was  a  yearning  for  a  God  of  love  to  take 
the  place  of  the  God  of  hate.  Matters  that  bordered 
on  the  really  religious  interested  her.  At  one  time 
when  she  was  in  her  fifth  year  there  was  to  be  a 
public  baptism  in  a  nearby  pond.  Dunora  and 
Eugene  attended.  To  the  little  girl  it  was  a  very 
serious  matter  and  she  was  so  impressed  that  every 
word  the  minister  spoke  in  the  service  engraved 
itself  upon  her  mind. 

As  they  trudged  back  toward  Iron  Mine  Hill  there 
was  a  long  period  of  silence.  Dunora  was  deeply 
thinking,  much  disturbed,  greatly  impressed.  They 
capped  the  top  of  one  of  the  rolling  hills  and  the 
beautiful  panorama  of  the  countryside  of  the  State 
of  Maine  spread  before  them.  They  reached  home 
without  much  comment  on  the  scene  they  had  wit- 
nessed and  then  the  brother  and  sister  went  to  drive 
the  cows  home  from  pasture.  ,  Way  out  in  the  coun- 
try, far  from  any  house,  Dunora  turned  toward  her 


76       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

brother  and  said,  "Eugene,  I  want  to  be  baptized." 
To  Eugene  it  was  a  joke  for  a  great  mud  puddle 
was  near  and  his  sense  of  humor  was  highly  pleased 
at  the  chance  to  duck  his  "cousin"  in  the  dirty 
water.  He  was  more  than  willing.  The  little  girl 
repeated  to  him  the  words  he  should  say  and  he 
baptized  her  in  the  mud  puddle,  exactly  repeating 
the  minister's  words.  Was  not  that  baptism  more 
sincere  than  many  in  gilded  edifices?  They  re- 
turned to  the  farm  of  Eugene's  foster  mother,  Dun- 
ora's  Aunt  Etta.  She  was  horrified  at  the  sight  she 
beheld.  There  stood  the  formerly  clean  Dunora, 
now  mud  from  head  to  foot.  "What  have  you  been 
doing?"  she  asked.  "Eugene  baptized  me,"  was  the 
reply.  "Come  in  here  and  let  me  clean  you  up  before 
your  mother  sees  you.  Aren't  you  afraid  your 
mother  will  whip  you  if  she  sees  you?"  "How  can 
she  whip  me  for  being  baptized?"  Dear  Aunt  Etta 
she  was  one  of  the  chosen  ones  of  earth.  She,  at 
the  time  of  the  death  of  the  father  and  mother  of 
Dunora,  wished  very  much  to  have  Dunora  come 
to  live  with  her.  Had  Dunora  done  so  her  younger 
years  would  have  been  surrounded  and  enwrapped 
in  true  love  and  this  book  might  never  have  been 
written.  But  Dunora's  brother  Eugene  was  adopted 
by  Aunt  Etta. 

Aunt  Etta  was  not  the  possessor  of  an  over  abun- 
dant supply  of  this  world's  goods  but  she  more  than 
made  up  for  it  by  being  the  keeper  of  an  abundant 
supply  of  love.  Dunora  she  loved  and  the  girl  re- 
turned it  with  interest  and  came  to  her  house  when- 
ever she  could.  Witness  the  return  after  the  bap- 
tism. Then  her  Aunt  removed  her  muddy  clothes 
and  washed  them.  The  little  girl  sat  before  the  fire 


DUNORA'S  GIRLHOOD  HOME    77 

while  Mrs.  Niles  dried  and  ironed  the  washed  clothes. 
When  Dunora  returned  to  her  own  home  her  mother 
saw  nothing  to  disclose  the  nature  of  what  had 
been  done  in  the  muddy  pool  beneath  the  canopy  of 
heaven.  Aunt  Etta  was  the  haven  of  comfort  for 
the  little  girlie  and  gave  the  only  evidences  of 
motherly  love  shown  in  those  days.  On  those  oc- 
casions when  the  little  girl  was  visiting  at  the  Rich- 
mond home  Aunt  Etta  frequently  gathered  the  las- 
sie in  her  arms  and  crooned  over  her,  patting  and 
smoothing  away  remembrance  of  her  home  abuse. 
Among  the  delicacies  produced  and  much  enjoyed 
were  cookies  from  the  never  empty  pantry  and  cream 
from  the  well's  cool  depths.  Mrs.  Niles  was  the  only 
person  who  obtained  love  from  Dunora  in  those 
early  days. 

Consequently  when  the  news  was  broken  to  the 
eight  years  old  girl  that  her  Aunt  had  passed  beyond 
she  was  grief  stricken.  When  her  parents  gave  this 
news  to  her  her  aunt  was  not  only  dead  but  buried, 
and  the  poor  comfort  of  attending  the  funeral  was 
heartlessly  denied  the  child.  In  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed Dunora  was  thus  denied  the  only  love  she  had 
ever  experienced  and  memory  was  the  only  influence 
in  her  life  which  could  bring  anything  lovable.  Im- 
agine, if  you  can,  this  young  and  loving  child  with 
her  childish  affections  starved  at  their  fountain 
head  in  all  but  one  direction  and  then  have  that  one 
wellspring  snatched  away  with  the  additional  sting 
of  her  parents'  act  in  not  letting  her  see  even  the 
dead  face. 


DUNORA    FINDS    TRUTH 

DUNORA  WHITNEY  sturdily  hastened  into 
the  yard  from  the  next  door  neighbor.  Her 
face  was  gray  as  ashes  and  on  her  countenance  was 
a  look  of  mingled  wrath,  astonishment,  sorrow  and 
determination  which  should  have  been  utterly  foreign 
to  a  girl  of  nine.  Mr.  Whitney  was  chopping  wood 
as  she  entered  and  looked  up  at  her  advancing  form 
and  what  he  saw  on  her  face  made  him  pale  too  for 
a  reason  he  knew  not  why  but  was  soon  to  learn. 

No  word  of  introduction  was  spoken,  none  needed. 

"I  hate  you !  I  hate  you !  You  said  you  were  my 
papa  and  you  aren't!  You  lied!"  The  man  stam- 
mered, "Why,  why,  Dunora,  of  course  I'm  your 
father!  What  makes  you  talk  such  nonsense?  Who 
said  such  a  thing?"  "Alice  did  and  it's  the  truth!" 
Dunora  rushed  by  toward  the  house  and  the  next 
victim,  Mrs.  Whitney.  But  as  she  passed  Mr.  Whit- 
ney she  did  not  fail  to  hear  his  anathema,  "I  wish 
Alice's  head  was  under  this  axe!" 

The  maddened,  outraged  and  infuriated  girl 
rushed  into  the  house  through  the  kitchen  and  din- 
ing room  into  the  sitting  room  regardless  of  bang- 
ing doors.  If  ever  righteous  anger  gleamed  from 
absolutely  frank  eyes  it  blazed  from  the  eyes  of  Du- 
nora. It  was  as  foreign  to  Mrs.  Whitney  as  is 

78 


DUNORA  FINDS  TRUTH       79 

righteousness  to  the  devil.  She  quailed  before  that 
look  for  she  beheld  a  reborn  child.  "Now  I  know 
why  Ralph  gets  everything  and  I  get  nothing !  Now 
I  know  why  he  goes  everywhere  and  I  stay  home! 
Now  I  know  why  I  have  to  carry  wood  and  he  doesn't 
have  to!  Oh  why  did  you  lie,  lie,  lie  to  me?  Why 
did  you  take  me  for  your  little  girl  if  you  were 
going  to  hate  me?  I  hate  you!"  Then  the  heart- 
broken girl  ran  upstairs  to  her  miserable  bed  and 
fought  it  out  in  tears.  All  the  remainder  of  that 
day  and  evening  and  all  that  night  Dunora  re- 
mained in  her  bedroom  unfed,  unattended  and  mis- 
erable. 

From  the  look  and  words  of  Dunora  Mrs.  Whitney 
had  made  no  reply  beyond  opening  and  shutting 
her  mouth.  On  her  bed  of  misery  poor  Dunora  re- 
membered the  bitter  accumulation  of  the  past  in- 
human years.  Dunora  had  been  a  child  full  of 
fancies  and  full  of  fears.  She  feared  a  flying  feather. 
When  barely  four  the  little  girl  was  driving  the  cow 
to  pasture.  Upon  coming  to  the  pasture  bars  the 
cow  waited  for  her  to  lift  the  wooden  rails  and  in- 
nocently turned  her  meek  face  toward  the  follow- 
ing lassie.  Dunora,  terrified,  ran  home.  Mrs.  Whit- 
ney beat  her  for  being  frightened  and  drove  her 
back.  A  kind  hearted  passerby  saw  the  sobbing  girl 
and  lifted  the  pasture  bars.  She  much  feared  a 
dead  body,  even  of  an  animal.  A  dead  hog  terrified 
her.  One  once  hung  in  the  barn  and  the  little  girl 
avoided  it.  Her  brutal  father  seized  her  in  his 
arms  exclaiming,  "By  God,  I'll  teach  you  not  to  be 
frightened  of  hogs !"  carried  her  to  the  barn  and 
wrapped  her  arms  about  the  dead  hog.  The  poor 
maltreated  child  went  right  into  a  fit  and  it  took 


80       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

them  three  hours  to  bring  her  to  consciousness.  Hav- 
ing a  deadly  fear  of  mice  she  awoke  one  morning 
only  to  find  a  dead  one  placed  on  her  pillow  by  some 
one  to  greet  her  morning  waking. 

After  that  hour  the  little  girl  was  a  changed  crea- 
ture. Her  foster  parents  no  longer  fully  controlled 
the  emancipated  proud  spirit. 

Instead  of  being  the  docile  acceptor  of  the  abuse 
she  became  defiant  and  gave  them  a  taste  of  what 
they  had  for  years  given  her  in  large  measure. 
When  told  to  do  her  former  work  she  purposely  did 
it  poorly  and  right  she  was  in  doing  that.  She 
purposely  left  soap  in  the  dishes  which  Mrs.  Whit- 
ney was  obliged  to  wash  out  and  when  told  to  wash 
the  floor  would  sometimes  wash  a  great  piece  in  the 
center  so  as  to  look  much  worse  by  reason  of  con- 
trast than  if  not  touched  at  all.  If  the  Whitneys 
demurred  she  threatened  to  run  away.  The  very 
next  day  after  Dunora's  discovery  of  who  were  her 
real  parents  she  was  asked  to  perform  some  work. 
"Why  do  you  ask  me  to  do  your  work?"  she  ques- 
tioned. "I  am  not  your  child."  "Not  my  child! 
I'll  show  you  whether  you  are  my  child  or  not!  I 
have  a  paper  which  makes  you  my  child  !"  The  child 
turned  away  with  a  contemptuous  shrug  of  her 
shoulder.  "Paper!  What's  a  paper  got  to  do  with 
it?" 

Ah,  there  it  is!  Down  the  most  distant  aisles  of 
the  past  of  the  human  race  comes  the  reverberating 
treble  of  the  child's  first  cry.  And  a  mother's 
agony  ushers  in  that  cry,  that  beginning  of  pos- 
sible everlasting  life.  In  ages  remote  she  endured 
her  agony  in  the  caves  and  among  the  rocks  un- 
shielded and  unaided,  in  these  times  in  more  degen- 


DUN  OR  A  FINDS  TRUTH        81 

erate  situations,  but  whether  among  the  caves  or 
in  the  couch  of  down  agony  it  is  and  no  mother 
escapes  it.  It  is  God's  way  adulterated  with  the 
devil's  amendment.  God  made  that  way  and  Satan 
gave  the  agony.  But  even  Beelzebub,  prince  of 
demons,  could  not  cause  to  falter  the  true  heroes  of 
humankind — women.  With  full  knowledge  that  their 
agony  was  the  greatest  of  earth  women  have  calmly 
faced  it.  Suffering  this  anguish  they  and  they  alone 
produced  the  human  race  and  without  their  self  de- 
nial and  baptism  of  torture  would  not  a  person  live 
who  lives  today.  The  crowds  in  the  streets !  Each 
individual  represents  an  agonized  mother!  The 
armies  and  navies !  Every  soldier  and  sailor  repre- 
sents a  human  female  martyr!  And  if  the  tables 
had  been  reversed  and  men  had  been  given  that 
agony  would  the  world  have  been  peopled  as  to-day? 
Verily  not!  God  knew  who  should  have  the  honor. 
God  knew  which  was  His  noblest  creation  and  He 
crowned  woman  with  motherhood.  And  in  these 
modern  times,  when  gold  is  not  evenly  divided  and 
every  man  clamors  for  it,  there  exist  those  beings 
so  base  that  no  animal's  name  is  base  enough  to 
describe  them,  who  prey  on  womankind,  possessing 
characters  of  skunklike  odor,  and  with  some  of  this 
human  garbage  this  book  deals. 

And  the  connection  between  mother  and  child, 
can  any  paper  determine  that?  Can  any  court  of 
justice  or  injustice  hand  down  a  much  bedignified 
document  that  shall  determine  the  connection  of 
heart  strings,  the  course  of  affection,  the  ties  of 
blood? 

Ah,  what  a  mother  had  been  Dunora's  true  mother ! 
And  what  a  kindly  hearted  father  had  been  hers! 


82       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Not  at  the  time  of  her  discovery  of  the  fact  that 
the  Whitneys  were  not  her  true  parents  did 
Dunora  learn  who  and  what  her  parents  were  and 
the  facts  of  her  birth. 

The  father  and  mother  of  Dunora  were  married 
for  love  surely.  She  was  very  loving  and  worshipped 
Dunora's  father.  With  such  a  woman  the  right 
man  can  attain  the  heights  of  heaven  while  on  earth. 
In  order  to  marry  as  she  did  Dunora's  mother  sac- 
rificed much  that  is  counted  worth  much  but  she 
gained  greatly  in  the  greater  goods.  For  true  love 
is  true  all.  There  is  absolutely  nothing  else  which 
truly  satisfies  or  long  pleases.  Dunora's  father 
was  in  many  ways  worthy  of  the  love  bestowed  upon 
him  and  perhaps  chiefly  because  of  the  fact  that  he 
possessed  an  over  abundance  of  generosity.  So 
pronounced  was  this  quality  that  he  ever  remained 
poor  because  he  gave  freely  of  what  he  had  to  those 
whom  he  thought  needed  it  more.  Such  generosity 
as  was  his  was  exceedingly  unusual.  He  apparently 
had  hardly  a  thought  of  himself  and  would  even 
give  an  overcoat  from  his  back  when  he  did  not 
know  from  what  place  he  would  get  another. 

While  in  her  early  years,  the  mother  of  five  chil- 
dren of  whom  Dunora  was  the  youngest,  Dunora's 
mother  caught  a  cold  which,  in  her  frail  health,  led 
to  rapid  consumption.  When  she  knew  that  she 
must  go  her  prayer  was,  "Oh,  God,  take  Dunora  with 
me  also,  for  I  cannot  leave  her  behind  to  suffer  at  the 
hands  of  others."  Full  well  did  she  realize  the  heart- 
lessness  of  the  world  when  dealing  with  an  unpro- 
tected girl.  But  God  knew  that  if  the  wish  of  the 
dear  mother  were  granted  much  harm  would  be 
done  for  He  knew  that  out  of  the  life  Dunora  was 


DUN  OR  A  FINDS  TRUTH        83 

to  live  would  come  a  great  object  lesson  of  what 
a  true  woman  could  do  and  which  would  show  the 
hollow  mockery  of  a  double  standard  of  morality 
and  the  hideous  ulcer  in  some  men's  lives.  But  in 
those  dear  wasted  arms  Dunora's  little  body  was 
wrapped  in  love  and  enfolded  in  those  arms  Dunora 
rested  as  her  mother's  life  went  out  of  earth  with 
the  spoken  words,  "Oh,  God,  take  her  with  me !  Take 
her  with  me!" 

Ah,  mother  of  Dunora,  what  a  mother  you  must 
have  been!  Had  God  answered  your  prayer  the 
world  would  never  have  known  that  a  great  woman 
among  women  had  been  born  and  you  had  the  honor 
of  being  her  mother.  Had  God  answered  your 
prayer  this  book,  which  is  written  because  of  love 
for  what  is  noble  in  humanity,  would  never  have 
been  written.  Would  that  I,  too,  could  pay  homage 
to  you,  mother  of  Dunora,  whose  mortal  body  rests 
amid  the  pine  clad  hills  of  the  State  of  Maine  but 
whose  noble  spirit  must  now  be  in  the  all  loving 
presence  of  Him  who  did  not  answer  your  prayer  but 
who  did  for  you  better  than  you  knew. 

While  Dunora's  mother  was  so  ill  that  she  could 
not  lie  on  a  mattress  because  her  weakness  made 
her  wet  one  through  with  perspiration,  Dunora  was 
born  and  was  a  strong,  robust  child.  But  it  was 
not  on  a  bed  of  soft  down  that  Dunora  first  saw  the 
light  of  day.  Her  mother  could  only  lie  on  a  bed 
of  straw  and  on  a  bed  of  straw  Dunora  was  born 
while  her  father  was  away  after  the  doctor.  So  all 
alone  and  unassisted  her  mother  gave  Dunora  life. 

This  fair  girl  who  became  the  mother  of  Dunora 
had  been  the  belle  of  all  the  surrounding  towns. 
Her  beauty  was  extreme  and  of  the  Grecian  type 


84       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

and  her  disposition  and  character  corresponded  with 
her  physical  beauty.  More  than  one  offer  of  mar- 
riage was  hers  from  those  well  furnished  with  this 
world's  goods,  but  she  refused  to  sell  herself  and 
married  for  love.  To  this  day  Dunora  does  not 
know  just  the  spot  where  the  body  of  her  mother 
lies  though  the  cemetery  is  known. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

THE   CLOSE  OF   SCHOOL, 

MORE  and  more  Dunora  kept  by  herself  after 
learning  the  weighty  news  which  had  been  dis- 
closed to  her.  "Where  have  you  been,  Dunora?" 
queried  her  foster-mother  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion. "Oh,  out  in  the  pasture,"  answered  the  preoc- 
cupied girl.  "What  were  you  doing  out  there?" 
"Oh,  just  dreaming,  just  thinking  pretty  thoughts." 
"What  were  they?"  interrogated  Mrs.  Whitney. 
"Oh,  just  pretty  thoughts,  pretty  thoughts,"  re- 
peated the  child,  and  that  was  as  near  as  Mrs.  Whit- 
ney ever  got  to  the  heart  of  her  adopted  daughter. 
But  out  in  the  pasture,  far  from  disturbing  human 
influences  Dunora  had  built  a  little  rustic  play  house 
beneath  great  pine  trees  and  there  her  air  castles 
were  formed  out  of  the  beautiful  Sowings  of  her 
pure  thoughts.  She  peopled  the  little  house  with  the 
people  of  whom  she  dreamed.  The  purpling  glens, 
the  dark  pines,  the  forest  aisles,  the  rolling  pastures 
all  spoke  to  her  in  symbolic  language.  They  were 
kinder  and  more  considerate  than  she  had  found 
people  except  Aunt  Etta  and  they  listened  to  all 
her  confidences  and  understood  them  for  they  never 
answered  back.  All  the  pines  said  when  she  com- 
plained of  the  world's  bitterness  was  "S-o-o-o-o ! 
S-o-o-o-o !  Y-e-e-e-s  !  S-o-o-o-o-o !" 

85 


86       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Up  against  the  pine's  smooth  bark  she  would 
place  her  little  face  and  say,  "Just  you  think,  pine 
trees,  I'm  going  to  grow  up  some  day  and  have  a 
real  home  where  love  is.  You  know  I  am,  don't  you, 
pine  tree?"  And  the  pine  trees  tossed  their  tassel- 
ated  branches  above  her  curly  head  and  answered, 
"S-o-o-o-o!  S-o-o-o-o!  Y-e-e-e-s!  S-o-o-o-o-o-o !" 
Their  carpet  of  needles  she  played  was  the  real 
carpet  of  her  home  and  pine  cones  were  the  miniature 
people  of  that  golden  future  of  which  she  dreamed. 

"Now,  Mr.  Man,"  she  said,  taking  up  a  pine  cone, 
"you  come  to  our  party,  and,  Mrs.  Man,  you  come 
too,"  and  she  took  two  pine  cones  one  slightly  longer 
than  the  other  and  named  them  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Man 
and  placed  them  in  improvised  chairs  beside  the 
carefully  made  table  where  the  "party"  was  to  eat 
its  banquet.  And  the  directions  she  gave  to  the 
rapidly  arriving  numbers  of  pine  cone  guests  made 
even  the  overshadowing  trees  shake  with  joy. 

Oh  those  dreams !  Por  hours  she  would  lie  there 
on  the  pine  needles  with  her  eyes  fixed  immovable 
on  the  heavens  above  which  the  swaying  pine  boughs 
frescoed  and  crocheted  with  their  pinnate  tassles. 
The  screaming  blue  jays  were  but  the  heralds  an- 
nouncing, "Come!  Come!"  to  the  forest  home  of 
Dunora.  And  the  cawing  crows  were  the  sombre 
hued  pessimists  who  said,  "Pshaw !  Pshaw !  Pshaw !" 
to  the  whole  invitation  of  the  bluejays.  And  the 
finches,  wrens,  warblers,  nuthatches  and  lesser  spar- 
rows which  busied  themselves  on  bark  and  branch 
and  brown  earth  were  but  the  welcome  passers  by 
to  whom  an  invitation  to  attend  was  given  but  who 
were  too  busy  about  their  own  business  to  stop  long 


THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL        87 

but  who  could  not  pass  by  without  a  close  gaze  and 
a  cheery  salutation. 

She  now  lived  almost  entirely  within  herself  and 
had  no  confidants.  Her  great  discovery  had  with- 
drawn her  within  herself  and  created  about  the  in- 
ner shrine  of  her  being  a  sheet  of  armor  which  her 
foster  parents  never  penetrated  save  once  when  her 
mother  did  many  years  later.  And  when  the  due 
time  comes  for  the  narration  of  that  period  it  will 
be  related.  Years  now  intervened. 

Over  across  the  Kennebec  on  the  eastern  bank  is 
situated  the  quiet  rural  community  of  East  Pittston. 
From  that  town  a  girl  came  to  the  school  which 
Dunora  attended  and  the  teacher  introduced  her  to 
Dunora  and  asked  her  to  make  the  new  comer  ac- 
quainted with  the  school.  The  process  resulted  in 
the  cementing  of  a  friendship  between  the  two  which 
lasted  all  through  the  remaining  school  years.  The 
two  became  fast  chums.  Every  week  the  girls  al- 
ternated in  spending  a  night  at  one  of  their  two 
houses.  One  week  Dunora  spent  a  night  in  East 
Pittston  and  the  next  week  the  chum  spent  in  Gar- 
diner. The  times  when  they  were  together  were 
rare  times  of  pleasure  for  the  two  girls.  They  had 
both  now  arrived  at  that  age  where  each  acquired 
a  boy  sweetheart  and  these  two  also  alternated  in 
their  visits  to  Gardiner  and  East  Pittston. 

Whenever  there  were  exercises  of  an  entertain- 
ment nature  at  the  school  Dunora  was  asked  to  take 
a  prominent  part.  Her  singing  voice  was  excellent 
and  she  sang  in  the  school  choral  society  and  all 
song  singing  in  the  school.  At  her  graduation  in 
June  of  her  fifteenth  year  she  was  given  a  part  in 


88       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

every  chorus  and  every  dialogue  or  piece  where  more 
than  two  spoke  as  well  as  being  given  a  piece  to  speak 
alone.  The  whole  graduation  exercises  had  been 
built  around  her  as  the  central  figure.  The  High 
School  had  its  graduation  exercises  at  a  different 
date  and  they  had  organized  a  straw  ride  to  take 
place  on  the  day  of  the  Grammar  School  gradu- 
ation. Dunora  received  an  invitation  to  go  on  the 
straw  ride. 

On  the  day  of  the  Grammar  School  graduation 
the  fathers  and  mothers  of  all  the  attending  chil- 
dren came  in  full  regalia  and  clattering  teams. 
Dunora's  foster  parents  were,  for  once,  proud  of 
her  achievements  and  prominence.  All  was  bustle 
and  anticipation,  but  the  realization  was  not  what 
had  been  anticipated.  Dunora  was  late.  The  ex- 
ercises finally  started  without  her,  but  were  halted 
because  they  could  not  proceed  without  her.  People 
began  to  fuss,  then  to  fume.  No  Dunora !  Teachers 
and  principal  consulted  their  watches  and  then 
themselves,  but  no  Dunora  came.  Half  an  hour 
passed,  then  three  quarters.  Dunora  became  the 
most  talked  of  person  in  Kennebec  County  during 
that  time.  But  she  utterly  failed  to  appear  and  the 
graduation  exercises  never  were  completed.  A  sad- 
der and  a  wiser  set  of  people  left  that  schoolroom 
than  had  entered  it. 

Some  hours  later  Dunora  appeared  at  home.  She 
had  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  straw  ride  with 
her  chum.  There  were  so  few  times  that  Dunora 
had  had  a  good  time  that  she  seized  that  opportu- 
nity. Perhaps  underlying  it  all  was  a  spirit  of  not 
caring.  So  hard  had  been  her  treatment  that  there 


THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL        89 

had  been  forced  upon  the  girl  a  spirit  of  defiance 
not  natural. 

The  real  start  of  Dunora's  rebellion  against  her 
foster  parents  had  been  the  great  discovery  of  the 
truth  concerning  her  real  parents:  But  two  years 
previous  to  her  breaking  up  of  the  graduation  exer- 
cises an  act  of  inhuman  cruelty  had  been  done  to  her 
by  her  foster  father  which  thoroughly  aroused  an 
open  revolt  and  kindled  into  flame  the  smouldering 
embers  of  independence.  Dunora  had  an  own  cousin 
named  Ben  who  was  about  twelve  years  her  senior. 
This  Ben  was  also  an  own  cousin  to  Dunora's  foster 
brother  Ralph.  Ralph's  mother,  Dunora's  foster 
mother,  was  a  sister  to  Dunora's  real  father  and 
Ben's  mother  was  sister  to  Ralph's  mother. 

Ben  was  very  fond  of  Dunora  and  pitied  her.  One 
day  when  Dunora  was  thirteen  Ben  sent  a  letter  to 
her  enclosing  a  dollar  and  asking  her  to  spend  it 
with  a  girl  friend  in  having  a  good  time  in  going 
to  Hallowell,  the  next  city  to  the  north  and  ad- 
joining Gardiner.  Dunora  was  glad  to  accept  and 
went  with  the  girl  to  Hallowell  perfectly  innocent 
of  even  any  wrong  intention  and  there  was  none. 
She  did  not  even  see  Ben.  She  had  never  been 
taught  that  it  was  in  any  way  out  of  the  usual  to 
accept  money  when  given  and  if  any  wrong  could 
possibly  have  been  construed  out  of  it  how  could  she 
have  been  expected  to  have  known  it  without  being 
told.  This  letter  which  Ben  wrote  was  openly  left 
at  home  by  Dunora  and  her  foster  father  read  it. 
When  she  returned  she  was  severely  scolded. 

Mrs.  Whitney  also  said  to  her,  "Why  didn't  you 
tell  us  you  were  going  to  Hallowell?"  "Well,  just 


90       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

because  I  didn't,  that's  all.  Is  there  anything  wrong 
in  going  to  Hallowell  with  a  girl?'*  "Why  didn't 
you  tell  us  that  Ben  sent  you  the  money?"  Mrs. 
Whitney  asked.  "Why  should  I?"  "Don't  you 
know  that  it  is  wrong  to  accept  money  from  a  man?" 
The  girl  replied,  "Know  that  it  is  wrong?  Of 
course  not.  Why  is  it?"  "Well  it  is."  "Why, 
mother,  Ben  is  my  cousin,  so  is  your  son  Ralph.  If 
Ralph  gave  me  money  you  know  you  wouldn't  think 
it  wrong  and  why  should  it  be  wrong  for  Ben  to 
give  me  money,  for  he  is  my  cousin  just  the  same  as 
Ralph  is?"  "Well  it  is,"  was  all  the  reply  Dunora 
got. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Dunora's  girl  chum  and  her- 
self to  alternate  in  seeing  each  other  part  way  home 
from  school  each  afternoon.  The  very  next  day 
after  the  above  conversation  took  place  it  was 
Dunora's  turn  to  see  Beatrice  part  way  home,  so  she 
went  with  Beatrice  down  town  and  as  far  as  the 
Randolph  bridge  across  the  Kennebec.  She  returned 
directly  home  from  the  bridge. 

Her  foster  father  met  Dunora  in  the  kitchen.  A 
scowl  was  on  his  face.  "Where  have  you  been?"  he 
demanded.  "I  have  been  down  to  the  Randolph 
bridge  with  Beatrice  to  see  her  part  way  home  as  it 
was  my  turn  to  go  with  her  to-day,"  said  Dunora. 
"You  have  been  with  Ben.  You  lie !"  almost  shrieked 
the  bully.  And  he  reached  for  the  iron  stove  poker 
and  that  great,  strong  male  actually  struck  the 
poor  girl  to  the  floor  with  the  stove  poker.  She 
was  knocked  all  but  completely  unconscious  but  was 
sufficiently  herself  to  shriek  in  agony  at  the  suc- 
ceeding blows.  In  the  shortest  possible  time  her 
shrieks  brought  the  neighbors  to  her  assistance. 


THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL       91 

When  they  saw  that  scene  their  rage  could  hardly 
be  restrained.  Some  one  took  hold  of  Mr.  Whit- 
ney sternly  and  they  all  told  him  that  if  he  ever 
lifted  his  hand  against  Dunora  again  even  in  the 
slightest  degree  they  would  call  in  the  police  authori- 
ties and  have  him  arrested.  Consequently  when 
Dunora  returned  from  the  straw  ride  at  the  time 
of  her  graduation  from  Grammar  School  Mr.  Whit- 
ney did  not  dare  do  any  more  than  scold  her. 

Retribution  for  that  foul  deed  was  late  in  coming 
to  Mr.  Whitney  but  it  came.  Some  years  later  he 
died  and  death  was  not  rapid  in  coming.  The  man- 
ner of  Dunora's  presence  in  the  house  at  that  time 
will  be  told  later.  As  Mr.  Whitney  lay  conscious 
but  dying  every  sound  of  Dunora's  soft  voice  was 
agony  to  him.  Retribution  had  come.  "Shut  the 
doors !  Shut  the  doors !"  he  called.  "Don't  let  me 
hear  her  voice!  It  makes  great  bells  ring  in  my 
head !"  The  clanging  bells  of  retribution. 

When  Dunora  did  not  appear  at  the  graduation 
exercises  the  school  officials  were  filled  with  wrath. 
Her  certificate  of  passing  into  the  High  School  and 
her  diploma  to  be  given  her  upon  graduation  were 
openly  torn  up  and  thrown  away.  She  came  back 
and  applied  for  them.  Her  maddened  teachers  told 
her  she  could  not  have  them.  But  she  insisted.  Then 
they  told  her  to  go  to  the  superintendent.  She 
went.  The  superintendent  asked  her  what  she 
wanted.  "My  certificate,"  was  the  reply.  He  hesi- 
tated. Then  Dunora  spoke  directly  to  him.  "If 
you  were  a  young  girl  my  age  and  you  had  the 
chance  I  had  to  go  on  that  ride  would  you  go  or 
would  you  stay  behind  and  speak  pieces."  The 
superintendent  made  no  reply  with  words  yet  what 


92       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

he  did  was  more  eloquent  for  he  gave  her  the  certifi- 
cate. 

Dunora,  dear,  the  school  has  closed  behind  you, 
Your  youthful  face  to  see  again  no  more, 

But  ere  you  usher  out  the  hours  of  childhood, 

Oh  can't  we  pause  and  look  through  childhood's 
door. 

The  fields  lie  fallow  with  their  call  to  playing, 
The  kine  with  meek  eyes  gently  low  for  you, 

Your  rustic  house  beneath  the  pines  is  waiting 
For  you  to  now  begin  your  life  anew. 

Above  the  fleecy  clouds  roll  on  in  glory, 
The  river  flows  in  gladness  to  the  ocean, 

And  every  sound  of  nature's  wild  abandon, 
Sings  joy  and  rapture  in  its  every  motion. 

Dunora,  dear,  you  stand  there  on  the  threshold, 
With  heart  as  pure  and  guileless  as  the  day, 

By  every  right  of  earth  and  heaven  above  you, 
Your  life  deserves  to  be  as  gentle  May. 

Your  guileless  trust  in  things  unknown  about  you, 
Your  heart  of  purest  gold  and  mind  of  steel, 

But  merit  life's  uncoined  and  richest  blessing, 
But  warrant  that  earth's  richest  bliss  you  feel. 

And  as  it  comes  to  me  who  write  these  pages, 
In  vision  sweet  to  see  your  dear  child  form, 

Oh  would  to  God  it  were  not  my  hard  duty, 
To  on  these  pages  write  the  coming  storm. 


THE  CLOSE  OF  SCHOOL        93 

For  oh,  Dunora  dear,  it  wrings  my  heart  strings, 
To  think  of  days  of  hell  you  yet  did  bear, 

When  by  man's  hell  born  and  damning  selfishness, 
You  every  trial  that  comes  to  man  did  share. 

And  in  my  clouded  sight  I  would  have  kept  thee 
From  aught  but  joy's  entrancing  melody, 

And  e'en  by  life  itself  I  would  have  saved  thee, 
From  falling  in  life's  storm's  wild  bitter  lea. 

But  He  who  rules  with  sight  that  never  faileth, 
And  knows  the  end  from  the  beginning's  sign, 

Ruled  with  a  kindlier  hand  than  was  suspected, 
When  by  His  hand  He  led  thee  down  the  line. 

And  so  in  humbleness  I  stand  before  thee. 

Dunora,  queen  of  women,  reign  indeed 
Within  my  heart's  remotest  sacred  precinct, 

That  I  may  give  to  you  your  every  need. 

And  as  the  days  of  life  flow  silent  o'er  us, 
May  God  Himself  grant  this  my  life  to  be, 

That  by  His  council  He  may  wise  uphold  me 
To  bring  earth's  highest,  truest  joy  to  thee. 

In  weakness  would  I  stop  at  this  recital, 
And  let  thy  bitter  tale  remain  untold, 

But  knowing  what  a  help  'twill  be  to  mortals, 
I  fain  would  make  my  hand  write  firm  and  bold. 

So  forth  and  write,  hand  writing  to  his  brothers! 

Expose  the  hell  and  brave  the  hellions'  steel! 
Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot  and  striking 

May  those  who  skulk  in  darkness  terror  feel! 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

WHEN  "BAD"  is  "WORSE" 

IT  was  in  the  balmy  month  of  June  of  her 
fifteenth  year  that  Dunora  finished  what  was  des- 
tined to  be  her  last  official  schooling.  Her  heart  de- 
sired a  continuation  of  her  studies  in  the  High 
School.  All  her  girlish  friends  were  either  going 
into  happy  homes  or  to  High  School  and  if  for  no 
other  reason  than  worthy  emulation  Dunora  natur- 
ally desired  to  go  to  one  or  the  other.  She  fully 
believed  that  she  was  to  go  to  High  School.  A 
happy  home  where  she  was  she  knew  she  could  not 
have.  Up  to  the  age  of  fifteen  Dunora  was  kept 
absolutely  ignorant  of  physical  matters  relating  to 
sex.  Her  foster  mother  never  mentioned  such  mat- 
ters. Dunora  was  absolutely  innocent  in  mind  as 
well  as  body. 

But  even  thus  early  she  had  been  exposed  to  seri- 
ous evil.  A  certain  woman  desired  to  perpetrate 
personal  hellish  practices  on  Dunora  and,  to  further 
her  scheme,  she  invited  the  innocent  girl  to  her  house 
where  young  men  had  been  previously  invited  and  she 
left  them  together  in  such  a  way  that  the  absolutely 
innocent  girl  ran  serious  danger  of  being  misled. 
It  was  the  hope  of  the  female  friend  that  her  nefa- 
rious scheme  would  lead  to  her  desired  end,  but,  thank 
God,  Dunora  was  too  innocent  and  too  strong  of 

94 


WHEN  "BAD"  IS  "WORSE33      95 

character  to  be  misled  by  those  who  cared  not  what 
the  destruction  of  a  promising  life  meant  if  only 
the  passion  of  the  hour  could  be  satisfied.  The 
woman  who  attempted  that  act  which  was  so  hideous 
that  no  name  could  describe  it  was,  at  last  reports, 
occupying  the  stratum  in  society  in  which  she  be- 
longed and  was  the  keeper  of  a  house  of  ill  fame  in 
Somerville. 

School  of  the  grammar  grade  was  over  for  Du- 
nora.  She  looked  forward  at  last  with  well  earned 
joy  to  a  summer  of  self-enjoyed  pleasure  when  she 
had  done  her  daily  work.  In  the  eyes  of  all  save 
Him  who  sees  the  end  from  the  beginning  she  cer- 
tainly should  have  had  her  desire  but  the  future 
brought  a  surprise  of  astonishing  nature. 

Now  that  she  had  graduated  from  grammar  school 
her  foster  parents  began  more  openly  to  show  dis- 
pleasure at  her.  Especially  was  this  evident  in  her 
foster  father.  His  favorite  occupation  was  grum- 
bling at  the  inoffensive  girl.  She  dreaded  his  pres- 
ence and  he  shunned  her  when  his  laziness  did  not 
prevent  him.  He  cast  out  remarks  about  the  cost 
of  keeping  her  in  food  and  clothes  and  these  heart- 
less remarks  cut  the  sensitive  girl  deeply.  She 
brooded  over  them  and  at  night,  the  poor  girl  cried 
herself  to  sleep.  What  a  little  bed  of  husks  to  be 
the  downy  cushion  on  which  so  sweet  a  body  bore  its 
bitterness ! 

In  these  days  of  early  summer  when  Dunora 
found  time  unoccupied  with  her  household  drudgery 
she  quietly  went  away  by  herself  and  generally 
down  over  the  slope  of  Iron  Mine  Hill  to  the  banks 
of  Cobbosseecontee  Stream.  This  Indian  name  of 
the  stream  and  large  lake  from  which  it  flowed  was 


96       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

commonly  abbreviated  thereabouts  into  "Cob'seeV 
Here  hour  after  hour  during  those  hours  when  she 
would  have  been  in  school  during  session  time,  she 
whiled  away  on  the  wings  of  thought.  The  broad 
stream,  clear  as  the  crystalline  lake  from  which  it 
flowed,  was  tranquil  here  because  of  its  broadness 
and  white  water  lilies  bespangled  its  bosom  typical 
of  the  absolute  whiteness  and  equal  purity  of  the 
soul  and  body  of  the  young  Dunora. 

In  Dunora's  mind  arose  rebellion  against  the  con- 
ditions at  the  place  she  was  forced  to  call  "home." 
All  around  her  she  saw  other  girls  of  her  age  sur- 
rounded with  the  beautiful  surroundings  which 
should  have  been  hers  and  the  objects  of  affection  of 
fathers  and  mothers.  And  her  proud  spirit  rightly 
rebelled.  It  became  increasingly  apparent  that  her 
foster  parents  did  not  intend  to  send  her  to  High 
School  and  also  that  especially  in  the  eyes  of  her 
foster  father  she  was  a  source  of  irritation.  All 
alone  there  on  the  banks  of  Cobbosseecontee  Stream 
Dunora  Whitney  planned  what  to  do  with  absolutely 
no  knowledge  of  the  world.  She  had  never  been  out- 
side of  Gardiner  and  the  surrounding  towns  in  her 
life.  She  planned  to  endure  the  hell  of  her  child- 
hood's home  no  longer  and  to  run  away. 

Among  all  the  people  of  Gardiner  she  of  course 
had  some  friends  with  whom  she  occasionally  went 
to  walk  or  at  whose  homes  she  called  but  they  were 
very  few.  One  of  her  lady  friends  was  receiving  at- 
tentions from  a  man  from  a  Massachusetts  city. 
This  man  had  a  reputation  for  "handsomeness."  Be- 
ware of  such!  The  true  beauty,  that  of  character, 
is  very  seldom  shown  on  an  Apollolike  face.  The 
man  who  had  the  greatest  reputation  for  homeliness 


WHEN  "BAD'1  IS  "WORSE"      97 

on  earth  was  Abraham  Lincoln  and  in  the  53d  chap- 
ter of  Isaiah  we  read  of  the  Saviour  Himself:  "He 
hath  no  form  nor  comeliness ;  and  when  we  shall  see 
him,  there  is  no  beauty  that  we  should  desire  him." 

This  "handsome"  man  had  an  acquaintance  with 
whom  he  consorted  a  good  deal  and  this  person  was 
about  forty-five  years  of  age.  He  was  a  factory 
worker  and  his  name  was  Boynton,  William  Boyn- 
ton.  Here  are  two  characters  diametrically  opposed 
— the  one  an  absolutely  pure,  uninformed  and  guile- 
less girl  of  fifteen  entirely  ignorant  of  any  of  the 
world  except  Gardiner,  Richmond,  Hallowell  and 
East  Pittston,  Maine,  and  the  other  a  man  of  the 
world,  sinful,  cunning,  calculating  and  forty-five. 
If  two  such  characters  ever  met  and  the  sinful 
worked  on  the  guileless  it  would  be  very  easy  to  de- 
termine which  would  temporarily  attain  what  seemed 
to  be  the  mastery.  We  say  temporarily  advisedly. 

On  one  day  when  the  two  girls  were  downtown 
they  met  the  two  men  and  Dunora  was  introduced  to 
both  of  them.  She  thought  no  more  of  it.  When 
the  two  men  turned  away  from  the  girls  the  older 
said,  "Who  is  that  dream,  the  younger  girl?"  "Oh, 
she  lives  up  on  Iron  Mine  Hill  with  the  Whitneys." 
"Is  she  their  daughter?"  asked  the  worldlywise  one. 
"No,  only  their  adopted  daughter.  There  is  a  re- 
port that  she  doesn't  know  she  isn't  their  girl.  Say 
it's  a  joke.  Those  folks  up  there  just  used  her  for 
a  good  thing."  "She's  a  peach,  isn't  she."  "Sure 
thing!"  That  closed  the  conversation  concerning 
Dunora.  But  it  did  not  close  the  malicious  train  of 
thought  in  the  mind  of  the  worldly  one.  Oh,  thought, 
if  only  some  Great  Power  would  control  thee  in  the 
minds  of  men  so  as  to  make  all  thoughts  good,  for 


98       ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

then  the  entire  world  would  be  a  Paradise  where  no 
wrong  would  be !  For  back  of  every  evil  deed  is  an 
evil  thought  and  back  of  every  evil  life  is  an  evil 
chain  of  thoughts  and  back  of  every  evil  thought  is 
an  evil  inclination.  May  we  not  have  more  than 
a  hope  that  there  will  come  a  time,  for  the  world 
was  not  always  as  it  is  now,  when  evil  will  forever 
pass  away?  Can  not  One  who  pronounced  His 
original  work  "Good"  make  it  so  again?  But  while 
evil  yet  roams  as  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom  it 
may  devour  let  the  story  of  Dunora  Whitney  be  an 
inspiration  which  shall  show  that  amid  surroundings 
born  of  the  devil's  most  careful  preparations,  the 
strongest  protection  is  the  strength  of  a  right  mind 
and  that  out  of  the  depths  there  is  One  who  will 
hear  the  cry  of  His  children  and  will  turn  their 
sorrow  into  joy,  their  seeming  defeat  into  an  ever- 
lasting triumph. 

During  the  intervening  days,  as  before,  Dunora 
spent  practically  all  of  her  time  which  would  have 
been  school  time  in  whiling  away  the  hours  on  Cob- 
bosseecontee's  bank.  She  did  not  at  first  notice  that 
Boynton  found  an  excuse  to  call  on  her  father  and 
mother,  never  paying  any  attention  to  her  or  asking 
about  her  when  absent.  He  was  too  crafty.  It 
would  spoil  his  scheme.  Then  Dunora  was  at  the 
house  sometimes  when  he  came  apparently  to  see 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whitney.  There  was  never  an  ex- 
change of  words  between  the  two  more  than  was 
necessary  in  conversation  of  passing.  While  call- 
ing at  the  Whitneys  he  learned  what  he  reallv  wished 
to  learn,  namely,  where  Dunora  could  be  found  alone. 

Down  on  Cobbosseecontee  Stream  Dunora  planned 
what  to  do.  Boynton  found  her  there.  He  seemed 


WHEN  "BAD"  IS  "WORSE"      99 

to  come  by  accident.  "What  are  you  thinking 
about?"  he  asked.  "Nothing!"  was  the  reply.  "Oh, 
yes,  you  are.  Tell  me.  I'll  help  you."  Well,  I  was 
thinking  of  running  away  from  home."  Boynton 
permitted  a  crafty  smile  to  pass  over  his  face  unseen 
to  her.  "How  are  you  going  to  do  it?"  he  asked. 
"Oh,  my  brother  Gene  will  help  me  and  take  me  in 
his  home.  He  loves  me  and  I  love  him."  A  look 
of  disappointment  passed  over  Boynton's  face. 

"How  are  you  going  to  ask  him?"  asked  the  man 
parrying  for  time  in  which  to  think.  "I'm  going  to 
write  to  him.  I  have  written  to  him.  I've  got  the 
letter  here."  "Let  me  have  it  and  I'll  put  a  stamp 
on  it  and  post  it,"  said  the  man.  Innocently  she 
handed  it  to  him.  Then  he  left  her  and  she  did  not 
see  him  till  some  days  after,  when  again  on  Cobbos- 
seecontee's  banks  he  met  her.  Their  conversation  was 
stiff  and  mostly  monosyllabic  on  her  part.  Then 
he  said  to  her,  "What  will  you  do  if  your  brother 
doesn't  answer  you?"  "I  don't  know.  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  run  away  all  alone." 

If  her  dear  Aunt  Etta  had  only  been  alive  how 
wise  would  have  been  the  council  she  would  have 
given  Dunora  at  this  time.  Absolutely  innocent  of 
the  world's  evil  ways,  entirely  innocent  by  nature 
because  of  her  own  guileless  character,  Dunora  could 
not  have  entertained  a  suspicion  against  this  man 
for  suspicion,  that  uprooter  of  trustful  character, 
was  foreign  to  her.  Not  an  atom  of  doubt  entered 
her  mind  when  she  gave  the  letter  to  her  brother  to 
Boynton  to  post. 

No  answer  coming  from  the  letter  which  she  wrote 
Dunora  was  much  troubled.  Again  and  again  she 
spent  her  hours  on  the  banks  of  Cobbosseecontee 


100     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Stream.  There  was  no  thought  in  her  brain  of  the 
person  who  had  promised  to  post  the  letter  and 
she  could  not  understand  why  the  brother  who 
loved  her  did  not  answer  her  appeal.  Of  all  times 
in  her  troubled  life  this  was  of  all  times  the  least 
in  which  she  thought  her  brother  would  fail  her. 
Boynton  played  the  game  well  from  the  worldly 
standpoint.  But  the  worldly  standpoint  never  per- 
manently wins. 

On  his  calls  at  the  Iron  Mine  Hill  home  he  care- 
fully kept  away  from  Dunora  and  craftily  pretended 
friendship  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whitney  yet  always 
keeping  his  ears  open  for  all  that  occurred.  The 
Whitneys  asked  him  absolutely  nothing  about  his 
credentials.  For  all  they  knew  or  cared  he  might 
have  been  a  criminal  by  actual  overt  act.  He  might 
have  been  a  married  man  or  not  a  married  man,  a 
forger,  a  murderer,  a  gambler,  a  roue  or  what  not. 
At  least  one  of  those  things  he  was. 

Only  often  enough  not  to  arouse  a  suspicion  in 
her  mind,  Boynton  seemed  to  accidentally  meet 
Dunora  principally  on  Cobbosseecontee  Stream 
banks.  He  beguiled  her  into  going  out  rowing  with 
him  and  by  deft  action  won  Dunora's  confidence. 
With  confidence  pent  up  so  long  in  her  and  denied 
vent  on  the  persons  immediately  surrounding  her,  it 
was  the  most  natural  of  occurrences  for  any  seeming 
honest  person  to  win  it. 

When  Boynton  thought  the  time  ripe  and  saw  the 
torture  of  mind  which  the  lass  was  undergoing,  he 
again  asked,  "What  are  you  going  to  do  now  that 
your  brother  hasn't  answered  your  letter?"  "Oh 
I  don't  know,  I  don't  know.  I  just  can't  stand  it 
at  home,  I  must  run  away.  I  can't  be  any  worse  off 


WHEN  "BAD"  IS  "WORSE"    101 

than  I  am  here."  "But  you  don't  know  what  might 
happen  to  you  if  you  run  away.  The  world  is  big 
and  heartless.  I've  got  a  plan  for  you.  You  know 
I  live  in  Massachusetts.  You  want  to  go  to  school 
some  more  and  you  know  your  parents  will  not  send 
you  more."  Dunora  interrupted.  "Oh,  my  parents 
just  seem  to  hate  me.  I  have  worked  terribly  hard 
for  them  all  my  life  and  all  I  have  from  them  is 
abuse  and  whippings.  They  give  all  good  things  to 
Ralph  and  all  the  whippings  to  me.  Oh,  I  can't  stand 
it!"  "Don't  stand  it!"  broke  in  Boynton.  "That's 
just  the  point.  Show  them  you  won't  stand  it!" 
"How  shall  I?"  asked  the  girl.  "Listen  to  me.  I 
have  an  aunt  in  a  city  in  Massachusetts  named 
Lynn.  When  I  go  back  you  just  come  along  with 
me  and  I'll  take  you  to  my  Aunt's  and  leave  you 
there." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  doing  that !  It  would  be 
very  bad  for  me  to  go  anywhere  with  a  man.  I 
couldn't  think  of  doing  it."  "Oh,  that's  all  right. 
I'll  fix  that  all  right.  We  will  be  married  but  it's 
only  to  protect  you.  Just  as  soon  as  we  get  to 
Lynn  I  will  put  you  in  my  aunt's  and  I  will  have 
the  marriage  annulled." 

The  girl  was  amazed  beyond  description.  What 
did  he  mean?  She  did  not  comprehend  the  true 
meaning  of  it  and  did  not  at  once  reply.  He  waited 
for  his  answer.  And  he  did  not  get  it  at  once.  She 
looked  him  over  trying,  in  her  innocent  brain,  to 
fathom  his  thoughts.  Then  there  passed  through 
her  mind  the  stern  recollection  of  her  home  and  of 
the  more  than  apparent  feeling  of  her  foster  parents 
that  she  was  in  the  way. 

"Come  up  to  the  house  some  day.     I  want  to  ask 


102      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

something  there,"  was  her  answer.  He  knew 
enough  not  to  say  more  and  so  he  left  her  to  her 
thoughts  after  reimpressing  the  statement  that  he 
only  offered  his  scheme  for  her  protection  and  that 
if  she  would  do  it  he  would  be  very  sure  to  put  her 
in  his  aunt's  and  to  immediately  annul  the  marriage. 

Some  days  later  he  came  to  the  house  as  usual, 
and  Dunora  was  there.  The  poor  girl  had  no  idea 
what  even  temporary  marriage  meant  or  nothing 
on  earth  would  have  tempted  her.  She  reasoned  in 
this  cold  blooded  fashion.  "If  my  father  and  mother 
are  wanting  to  get  rid  of  me  so  much  that  they  will 
do  what  Mr.  Boynton  asks,  if  he  asks  it,  it  may  be 
better  than  running  away  alone." 

Boynton  had  made  a  good  impression  with  the 
Whitneys  by  careful  cultivation  of  all  the  graces 
he  possessed  and  he  used  that  to  its  fullest  extent. 
With  the  heavy  hearted  Dunora  listening  to  his  ask- 
ing permission  to  marry  her  of  her  foster  parents 
she  heard  them  assent.  "Why,  yes,  if  you  want  to," 
they  said  without  consulting  the  poor  victim. 
Dunora's  heart  sank  like  lead  as  she  heard  those 
heartless  words.  The  steel  wall  again  arose  and 
within  herself  where  should  have  been  love  came  a 
stone. 

The  invitations  were  sent  out  for  the  witnesses 
to  the  nothing  less  than  execution  as  would  have 
been  done  for  a  criminal.  They  came.  Before  that 
sight  of  the  past  I  shudder,  my  whole  being  revolts. 
When  the  minister  asked  Dunora  the  usual  questions 
she  opened  not  her  mouth.  The  name  of  the  person 
who  performed  this  is  not  mentioned  but  he  knows 
and  so  does  God. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

THE    GREAT    AWAKENING 

AT  that  awakening  which  she  did  not  yet  know 
was  to  be  an  awakening,  poor  Dunora  was  en- 
tirely innocent  of  what  was  done  and  had  no  idea 
other  than  that  put  in  her  brain  by  the  deceiver. 
Her  life  to  that  hour  had  never  taken  her  more 
than  a  few  miles  away  from  her  foster  parents'  home 
and  she  had  no  idea  of  the  outside  world.  It  would 
be  extremely  difficult  for  any  person  to  mentally 
put  themselves  in  Dunora's  position.  A  person 
who  has  even  travelled  to  a  day's  journey  away  from 
home  has  done  more  than  Dunora  had  done  to  thai? 
hour.  Our  thoughts  are  all  associated  with  locality. 
When  we  think  of  a  person  we  always  think  of  some 
locality  associated  with  that  person  and  at  any 
moment  of  our  lives  we  can  summon  to  our  mind's 
stage  the  scenery  from  all  places  wherein  we  have 
travelled.  Try  to  imagine  a  little  lass  with  none 
of  these  mind  pictures  and  you  will  fail  to  do  so. 
But  you  can  readily  see  that  her  mind  was  one 
entirely  innocent  of  any  realization  of  anything  but 
her  immediate  surroundings  and  what  she  had  been 
taught  in  school.  It  is  dreadful  to  think  of  the 
advantage  taken  of  her  by  the  man  who  persuaded 
her  to  do  as  he  asked  under  the  cloak  of  protec- 
tion for  her  for  that  is  all  she  thought  she  was  doing. 

103 


104      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Oh,  if  her  eyes  had  only  been  opened  at  that  time. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  occurrence  at  the  Gar- 
diner home  that  Boynton  said,  "Now  we  will  go  down 
to  Boston  on  the  boat  and  I'll  take  you  to  my 
sister's!"  "What  is  Boston  like?"  Dunora  asked. 
"Oh,  you  will  see,"  he  replied.  In  her  girlish  mind 
she  had  no  conception  of  a  large  building,  much  less 
a  city  but  she  was  filled  with  light  hearted  joy  that 
at  last  she  was  to  be  free  from  her  foster  parents 
and  under  the  protection  of  this  unknown  "aunt." 
If  one  could  only  have  looked  into  that  childish,  un- 
sophisticated mind  what  a  revelation  of  innocence 
would  have  been  discovered. 

She  could  now  openly  go  and  not  as  she  had 
planned  to  run  away  and  with  pleasure  she  said 
"Good-bye"  to  her  parents  and  as  her  foot  left  the 
threshold  it  began  a  journey  marked,  ah,  marked 
with  hellish  suffering  and  superb  heroism.  As  my 
pen  reaches  this  point  a  deep  seated  thrill  of  admira- 
tion goes  over  me  as  I  mentally  contemplate  what 
there  lies  before  me  to  write.  Dunora  indeed  is 
honored  among  women  in  that  God  chose  her  as 
worthy. 

Dunora  had  been  down  the  Kennebec  once  before 
for  Boynton  had  taken  her  once  to  Popham  Beach 
but  on  this  trip  she  was  to  go  out  on  the  great 
ocean  not  only  of  the  Atlantic  but  of  life.  Ah,  if 
that  boat  could  only  have  realized  what  precious 
freight  it  was  carrying  that  night !  There  she  stood 
wide-eyed,  staring,  innocent,  girlish  and  her  only 
thought  was  to  get  away  from  the  hell  she  had  left 
behind.  The  worldly  wise  hand  would  have  kept 
from  her  the  evil  blasts  that  so  soon  blew  but  an 
overruling  Providence  loved  her  and  had  her  in 


THE  GREAT  AWAKENING    105 

hand  for  it  was  His  purpose  to  greatly  use  her  life 
for  the  benefit  of  others  and  to  finally  crown  her 
with  a  crown — the  only  crown  that  fadeth  not  away 
— the  crown  of  the  love  of  God. 

All  was  so  wonderful  to  Dunora.  She  was  filled 
with  myriad  thoughts  for  she  was  ever  a  dreamer. 
As  the  steamer  left  Popham  Beach  Dunora's  wonder 
made  her  unmindful  of  her  immediate  surroundings. 
The  little  girl,  never  before  allowed  out  of  her  yard 
to  play,  except  on  the  one  previous  trip  to  Popham 
Beach,  now  began,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  to 
go  beyond  that  first  trip.  There  beyond  her  was 
the  Gorgon  eye  of  Seguin  Island  staring  remorse- 
lessly at  her.  It  was  night  and  the  phantoms  of  a 
vivid  childish  imagination  peopled  her  brain.  The 
great  glaring  eye  became  that  of  some  supernatural 
being  who  presided  over  the  blackness  beyond.  She 
completely  forgot  the  man  Boynton,  old  enough  to 
be  her  father,  and  then  begin  all  over  again  at  in- 
fancy and  grow  to  fatherhood  again  without  adding 
a  single  year  to  those  already  flown  over  his  head. 

Seguin's  unblinking  eye  fascinated  her  and  she 
began  to  entertain  a  phantasy  of  thoughts  which 
could  never  be  portrayed  but  were  very  real.  Never 
did  her  fancy  roam  in  any  direction  but  what  might 
come  to  pass  within  the  range  of  possibility.  In- 
tensely practical  both  from  ancestry  and  because  of 
her  stern  life  she  was  never  an  idle  dreamer.  Dream- 
ing was  hardly  the  word  to  use  for  it  was  not  per- 
mitting herself  to  drift  mentally  but  rather,  even  in 
one  so  young,  it  was  constructive  thinking.  As  they 
passed  out  by  Seguin  onto  the  bosom  of  the  broad 
Atlantic  Boynton  gave  her  a  key.  "That  is  the 
key  to  the  stateroom,"  he  said.  She  went  there  alone 


106     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

and  prepared  to  retire.  Soon  there  came  a  knock 
at  the  door.  "Who's  there?"  Dunora  asked.  "I, 
Boynton!"  "What  do  you  want?"  "Why,  I  want 
to  come  in."  There  was  a  pause,  then  Dunora  said, 
"What  for?"  "Why,  you  silly  little  thing,  I  want  to 
come  in  to  go  to  bed."  Instantly  came  the  rejoinder, 
"No,  indeed,  you  don't  get  in  here.  I  never  had  a 
man  in  my  room  in  my  life  and  I'm  not  going  to 
begin  now !"  Boynton  raved.  "Why,  I'm  your  hus- 
band; I  have  a  right  to  come  in  there."  "No,  you 
haven't  either.  You  just  married  me  to  take  me  to 
Boston  to  your  sister's  and  you  don't  get  in  here;" 
and  she  slammed  the  door  bolt  into  place  more 
securely.  He  didn't  get  in  no  matter  what  he  said. 
Right  here  she  began  to  harbor  the  thought  that 
this  man  appeared  somewhat  different  from  what  she 
had  expected.  He  had  talked  in  a  way  unlike  his 
former  words.  She  admit  him  to  the  privacy  of  her 
stateroom!  The  very  idea  of  it  enraged  her  and 
sowed  a  little  seed  of  distrust. 

The  next  morning  Dunora  awoke  to  see  the  sight 
of  her  life.  There  before  her  lay  the  metropolis  of 
New  England  in  all  its  mightiness  as  seemed  to  her 
eyes.  She  was  speechless.  They  disembarked  and 
wandered  up  the  streets,  she  utterly  unable  to  speak. 
At  length  they  reached  the  Public  Garden  and  there 
she  remained  stationary  gazing  at  the  surrounding 
buildings  and  came  out  of  her  silence.  "Why  do 
they  have  these  big,  tall  stores  here?"  she  asked. 
"Do  people  live  way  up  there?"  Boynton,  being  a 
man  of  the  world,  laughed  at  her  innocence.  Then 
she  opened  the  floodgates  of  her  questioning  and 
plied  him  with  a  cataract  of  interrogations. 

But  the  tragedy  of  the  situation  is  to  be  revealed 


THE  GREAT  AWAKENING    107 

immediately.  Boynton  had  deceived  that  girl  into  a 
travesty  of  marriage  when  his  total  possessions  in 
the  world  were  five  dollars,  with  no  business  situation 
and  not  a  roof  under  which  to  lay  his  head.  Just 
think  it  over,  reader.  Yes — just  think  it  over, 
reader.  Think  of  what  has  already  been  shown  of 
the  wonderful  story  of  Dunora.  Think  of  the  cruel- 
ties she  already  had  endured  and  think  of  those 
which  have  not  been  disclosed  and  which  your  imagi- 
nation can  conjure  up.  Think  of  the  happy  awaken- 
ing Dunora  had  expected  from  her  fifteen  years  of 
heart  longing  and  aching  body  and  think  of  this 
beginning  of  the  awakening.  And,  last  of  all,  think 
of  the  entire  innocence  of  the  girl  and  the  effect 
which  such  a  rude  awakening  must  produce  and  think 
of  the  inhuman  suffering  of  mind  which  would  be 
caused  by  the  realization  of  the  truth.  From  the 
other  side  also  consider  what  that  person  has  to 
answer  for  who  so  sinned  against  the  innocence  of 
this  heart  wrung  girl. 

Dunora  was  dazed  by  the  sights  of  the  great  city. 
Boynton  led  her  on.  "Where  are  you  going  now?" 
the  girl  asked.  "To  Lynn,"  he  replied.  To  Lynn 
they  went  and  Dunora  asked  to  be  taken  to  his  sis- 
ter's. "Not  now,  wait  awhile,"  and  the  girl  was  too 
bewildered  to  demur  seriously.  Into  the  old  Lynn 
railroad  station  they  went  and  up  into  the  gallery 
to  the  newspaper  stand.  "What  are  you  going  to 
do?"  Dunora  asked.  "Look  up  a  room,"  he  replied. 
"Why,  you  told  me  you  would  take  me  to  your  sis- 
ter's when  you  got  here !  What  do  you  want  a  room 
for  when  I  am  going  to  your  sister's?  Take  me  to 
your  sister's  and  then  you  can  go  to  your  home." 
Boynton,  small  of  stature  as  well  as  small  in  nature, 


108     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

hereupon  for  once  spoke  the  truth.  "I  haven't  any 
home,"  he  said. 

"You  haven't  any  home!"  she  repeated,  stunned. 
"No,"  he  said.  Then  he  added,  "And  I'm  going  to 
hire  a  room  and  we  are  going  there."  "Mr.  Boynton, 
what  do  you  mean?"  the  astonished  Dunora  asked. 
"Just  what  I  say !"  he  reiterated.  "You  married  me 
and  you  are  going  to  live  with  me,"  he  added.  She 
recoiled  in  horror.  Her  look  was  not  one  a  real  man 
would  have  cared  to  have  faced  and  a  real  man  would 
not  have  had  to  have  faced  any  such  look  for  a  real 
man  would  never  have  caused  it.  "Mr.  Boynton," 
she  exclaimed,  "do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  lied  to 
me?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  lied  to  me?  Why 
I  haven't  married  you  really  and  you  know  it.  I 
never  have  been  anywhere  with  a  man  in  my  life  and 
I  only  did  what  I  did  because  you  said  you  would 
take  me  to  your  sister's  and  then  have  the  marriage 
taken  back.  Now  I  want  you  to  keep  your  word. 
I  am  a  young  girl  and  I  expect  you  to  protect  me. 
You  told  me  this  was  for  my  protection  and  you 
must  protect  me." 

"You  married  me  and  you  are  going  to  live  with 
me,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it,"  Boynton  exclaimed. 
"What  could  you  do  without  me.  You  haven't  any 
money  and  what  could  you  do?"  "What  could  I 
do  without  you?  Why,  just  what  you  yourself  said 
I  would  do.  You  told  me  you  were  taking  me  here 
to  put  me  in  your  sister's  so  that  I  could  have  my 
heart's  desire  in  going  to  school  again.  You  told 
me  you  would  see  that  your  sister  would  send  me 
to  high  school  as  I  am  ready  to  go  now." 

"Well,  I  can't  take  you  to  my  sister's  to-day  and 
we  are  married  and  you  must  come  with  me  now." 


THE  GREAT  AWAKENING    109 

"Why  don't  you  get  one  place  for  yourself  and  one 
for  me,  then?"  she  interrogated.  "I  can't."  "You 
can't!  Why  not?"  He  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
and  drew  out  five  dollars.  "That  is  all  the  money  I 
have  and  I  can't  get  two  separate  rooms  with  that." 
"Well,  you  can  get  some  more  from  what  you  have 
that  isn't  in  your  pocket."  "I  haven't  any  more." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  in  a  manner  which  indicated 
that  she  did  not  comprehend.  Then  she  voiced  her 
thoughts.  "I  don't  understand."  He  repeated  his 
words.  "I  haven't  any  more."  "Yes,  but  I  mean 
you  can  get  some  more  from  what  you  have  saved." 
"I  haven't  saved  anything,"  he  asserted.  Again  her 
puzzled  look.  "Do  you  mean  to  say  that  that  is  all 
the  money  you  own  ?"  He  hesitated  a  moment  and  he 
replied,  "Yes." 

Even  then  Dunora  endeavored  to  look  on  the 
bright  side.  "You  can  get  more  money  from  the 
place  where  you  work."  He  put  the  finishing 
touches  on  the  tragedy.  "I  haven't  any  work !" 
Then  the  bravery  of  Dunora  came  to  the  front.  "Go 
and  get  some.  If  I  can  help  you  get  some  I  will.  I'll 
be  at  your  sister's  and  you  can  take  care  of  your- 
self with  that  money  till  you  get  some  more  work." 

Boynton  then  disclosed  his  hand  as  would  have 
been  said  at  a  poker  game.  "I  can't  take  you  to  my 
sister's  now  and  you  have  got  to  come  with  me." 
The  girl  was  young.  She  had  not  then  fought  the 
world.  She  knew  nothing  to  do  but  temporarily 
accept  the  situation,  but  there  was  then  born  in  her 
mind  a  seed  which  soon  would  bud  forth  into  flower 
and  the  budding  of  which  required  for  fertilization 
a  degree  of  heroism  seldom  seen  on  a  cannon  rocked 
battlefield. 


110      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

In  the  gallery  of  the  railroad  station  he  looked 
over  the  files  of  newspapers  to  find  the  cheapest 
room  he  could  find  and  when  he  saw  the  mention  of 
one  the  price  of  which  suited  him  they  started  out 
to  find  it.  It  was  near  the  center  of  the  city  and 
was  an  attic  room !  The  contrast  between  the  coun- 
try home  she  had  left  and  the  miserable  hovel  under 
the  eaves  at  which  she  was  then  looking  was  too 
extreme  to  be  pictured  in  words.  He  tried  to  ex- 
cuse it,  "I  can't  afford  any  other."  She  thought  a 
moment  and  then  said,  "When  you  spoke  to  me  in 
Gardiner  and  told  me  you  would  take  me  to  your 
sister's,  you  lied.  And  when  you  took  me  here  you 
knew  how  little  money  you  had,  didn't  you?"  He 
made  no  response,  for  he  couldn't.  She  insisted 
upon  another  cot  bed  being  put  in  the  room  and  on 
having  a  sheet  hung  from  the  ceiling  to  form  a  par- 
tition. This  was  reluctantly  done.  She  kept  herself 
entirely  aloof.  The  room  cost  one  dollar  and  a 
half  which  left  them  three  dollars  and  a  half  in 
the  world  with  no  present  means  of  getting  more. 
That  first  week  had  better  be  passed  over  without 
other  comment  than  to  say  that  soup  bones  formed 
their  food  and  utter  misery  crowned  every  hour  of 
Dunora's  existence. 

Boynton  did  not  over  exert  himself  to  find  work. 
He  felt  that  he  had  Dunora  in  his  clutches  and  he 
meant  to  take  every  advantage  of  what  he  thought 
was  a  fact  and  felt  not  the  slightest  inclination  to 
do  one  kindly  act  for  her  or  in  the  least  alleviate 
her  sufferings.  Such  was  the  great  awakening  to 
her  trip  from  Gardiner.  Could  human  endurance 
live  through  it?  We  will  see. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

THE  UNSEEN  STOBM 

It  takes,  perchance,  the  earthquake's  shock 

To  change  the  stolid,  stern-ribbed  rock. 

It  takes  the  whelming  force  of  gale 

To  make  the  oak-ribbed  ship's  sides  fail. 

It  takes  the  unseen  storms  of  life 

To  cut  with  deeper  wound  than  knife, 

And   from   the   operation  wild 

Produce,  at  length,  the  perfect  child. 

THE  hideousness  of  Dunora's  surroundings,  the 
poverty  of  her  situation,  the  terribleness  of  her 
awakening,  the  clanging  noises  of  the  city  all  con- 
spired to  produce  a  temporary  numbing  effect  upon 
Dunora's  mind.  The  effect  of  her  previous  life,  the 
numerous  beatings  she  had  needlessly  received,  the 
self  denials 'all  had  produced  a  rather  fatalistic  ten- 
dency to  steel  her  heart  and  accept  situations  as 
they  came.  Weeks  passed  in  this  terrible  situation 
for  the  helpless  girl  and  thought  after  thought 
chased  one  another  through  her  brain.  The  most 
depressing  thing  in  her  life  thus  far  was  the  final 
knowledge  that  all  that  Boynton  had  promised  her 
in  Gardiner  were  lies,  that  he  saw  an  innocent  and 
helpless  girl  and  thought  he  could  get  the  better  of 
her,  that  he  married  her  under  the  guise  of  protec- 

111 


112      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

tion  which  he  did  not  intend  to  produce,  that  he 
did  not  intend  to  take  her  to  his  sister's  and  that 
he  never  intended  to  send  her  to  school. 

Finally  he  got  work  in  a  shoe  factory  at  seven 
dollars  a  week  and  he  spent  a  good  portion  of  that. 
Three  dollars  a  week  was  the  total  sum  on  which 
they  were  fed.  And  Dunora  made  that  do  for  food. 
Bitterly  did  she  long  for  even  the  hell  from  which  she 
had  come  in  Gardiner. 

"Where  were  you  at  twelve  yesterday?"  asked 
Boynton  one  night.  "Out  in  the  market  getting 
food."  Then  she  resumed,  "How  did  you  know 
I  was  out?  You  were  at  work."  "No,  I  wasn't.  I 
thought  I  would  come  home  to  see  where  you  were 
and  I  found  you  out."  "Yes,  I  do  not  stay  in  all 
the  time.  I  have  need  of  going  out  at  least  some 
both  for  air  and  to  buy  food."  Boynton  said  noth- 
ing but  a  queer  look  came  over  his  face.  There  never 
was  much  conversation  between  them  for  it  became 
the  barest  existence  for  Dunora  and  Boynton  lost 
all  joy  save  that  of  seeming  possession. 

The  next  morning  Boynton  had  a  quick  glancing 
look  when  he  came  to  the  breakfast  table.  He  spoke 
only  in  monosyllables.  As  he  arose  to  go  to  work 
he  took  the  room  key  from  his  pocket  and  turned 
to  Dunora.  He  stood  near  the  door  and  shook  the 
key  toward  her.  "I  know  one  thing,  Dunora,  today." 
And  he  smiled  evilly.  "I  know  that  you  won't  go  out 
to  market  to-day!"  And  he  hurried  through  the 
door,  thrust  in  the  key  from  the  outside  and 
locked  it. 

For  a  short  time  Dunora  stood  there,  as  her  be- 
wildered senses  did  not  at  once  grasp  the  situation 
for  she  had  had  no  warning  of  his  action.  Then 


THE  UNSEEN  STORM         113 

the  full  meaning  of  it  dawned  upon  her  and  she 
knew  she  was  locked  in  till  he  returned  at  night. 
Her  first  thought  was  to  scream  for  assistance  but 
her  second  thought  was  to  see  it  out  and  endure  it, 
and  endure  it  she  did.  All  day  long  she  was  alone 
in  that  room  with  her  thoughts  and  they  began  to 
focus  themselves  on  a  certain  line  of  action.  When 
he  returned  at  night  she  made  no  reference  to  his 
act  of  the  morning  and  no  word  as  to  any  dis- 
comfort. He  was  denied  the  satisfaction  which  a 
brute  usually  expects  from  the  complaints  of  his 
victim.  Not  the  slightest  word  or  gesture  indicating 
anything  out  of  the  ordinary  came  from  Dunora's 
lips. 

Bad  went  to  worse.  If  Dunora  wanted  a  postage 
stamp  he  desired  to  know  to  whom  she  was  going  to 
write  and  then  he  would  send  her  out  with  just  the 
two  cents  for  the  stamp.  On  one  of  these  lone  trips 
a  drunken  man  attempted  to  seize  her  and  the  fright- 
ened girl  ran  back  to  the  miserable  room  breathless. 
Slowly  but  surely  there  was  working  in  her  mind  a 
method  of  emancipation.  She  was  not  at  first  con- 
scious of  its  meaning.  But  a  happening  which  soon 
occurred  brought  matters  more  and  more  to  a 
climax.  Dunora  was  obliged  repeatedly  to  cook  soup 
bones  and  herring.  On  one  occasion  she  put  too 
much  salt  in  the  soup  to  suit  his  taste  and  he  flew 
into  a  coward's  rage  and  called  the  innocent  little 

girl  a  "G —    —  d son  of  a  b —  — !"     Dunora  was 

stunned.  Not  one  of  her  family  in  Gardiner  had 
she  ever  heard  swear,  much  less  at  her.  Not  one  of 
the  Gardiner  family  used  tobacco  either  and  the 
experience  just  mentioned  was  like  the  cut  of  a 
cruel  knife.  Yet  she  was  so  overwhelmed  with  the 


114      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

greatness  of  her  crime  in  putting  too  much  salt  in 
the  soup  that  she  stole  away  to  the  roof  to  actually 
throw  herself  to  the  ground  had  she  not  been  pre- 
vented from  so  doing.  What  better  illustration 
could  there  be  of  the  fact  of  her  remarkable  inno- 
cence and  innocent  exaggeration  of  a  mistake  into 
a  heinous  crime  and  even  then  the  mistake  was  prob- 
ably not  made. 

How  well  it  also  illustrates  her  sensitive  nature 
and  this  additional  astounding  fact — that-she-had- 
actually-rather-kill-herself-than  -  even  -  offend  -  the  - 
physical-taste-of-a-person-she-loathed.  Could  a  bet- 
ter example  of  genuine  unselfishness  be  conceived. 
I  trow  not.  And  think  of  the  crime  of  cursing  with 
an  oath  a  child  like  that! 

Oh  lassie  wee,  before  thy  humble  self, 
I  fain  would  do  a  reverential  act, 

For  I  have  never  seen  the  wide  world  o'er, 
Self  sacrifice  so  surely  made  a  fact. 

I  feel  that  all  my  boasted  gain  were  naught, 
That  any  virtue  I  could  claim  were  dross, 

That  all  the  claims  I  have  on  being  good 
Were  really  simmered  down  to  very  loss. 

And  so  thy  beacon  light  of  humbleness, 

Which  really  proves  to  moral  greatness  be, 

May  always  stand  before  me  as  a  guide 
'Til  thy  true  worth  is  also  found  in  me. 

For,  as  the  poet  says,  our  lives  indeed 

Are  not  alone  and  solitary  run 
For  echoes  from  our  souls  survive  e'en  death 

And  live  while  lights  the  day  the  living  sun. 


THE  UNSEEN  STORM         115 

So  praises  be  to  Him  who  dwells  above, 

That  looking  o'er  the  throngs  of  men  below, 

He  found  you  worthy  of  His  mighty  love 

And  gave  to  me  your  real  self  true  to  know. 

In  the  days  that  followed  the  little  Dunora  lived 
hourly  agony.  Imagine  yourself  in  her  place.  Two 
herring  for  supper,  a  curse  for  grace,  a  frown  for 
a  smile,  detestation  for  love.  Gardiner  had  been 
a  paradise  to  that.  The  mythical  hell  itself  would 
at  least  have  had  fellow  pity.  Sordidness,  poverty, 
ignorance,  cruelty,  inhumanity,  jealousy,  hate,  hun- 
ger of  body  and  soul  were  her  lot. 

She  grew  afraid  of  all  men.  One  evening  she  had 
gone  out  to  the  market  and,  hurrying  back  through 
a  partially  darkened  street,  a  brutal  Italian  at- 
tempted to  seize  her.  There  had  been  an  observer 
who  hurried  over  to  her  assistance  and  the  Italian 
fled.  "May  I  not  see  you  safely  home?"  said  the 
protector.  "Oh,  no,  thank  you,  please.  I  had  rather 
go  alone  now.  You  know  I  am  afraid  of  you  too." 

Frequently  Boynton  said  to  her,  "If  you  go  out 
of  this  house  to-day  I  shall  know  it  and  you'll  suffer 
for  it !"  He  kept  her  a  prisoner.  Young,  defence- 
less, knowing  no  friend,  not  even  her  foster  parents 
as  such  she  was  apparently  helpless  and  Boynton 
took  every  advantage  of  it.  She  finally  was  obliged 
to  work  to  get  materials  for  her  own  clothes  and 
being  insufficiently  fed  she  more  than  once  fainted  at 
her  work.  Boynton's  supplying  her  with  such  a 
small  sum  of  money  forced  her  to  work  at  the  first 
place  where  she  could  get  honorable  work  in  order 
to  obtain  the  cheapest  of  raiment  even.  This  place 
at  that  time  happened  to  be  a  shoe  factory.  One 


116      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

phase  of  .Dunora's  character  has  not  as  yet  been 
separately  mentioned.  She  was  proud  of  spirit  and 
this  came  naturally  from  an  ancestry  of  spirited 
blood.  Being  so  the  sordid  and  bestial  things 
she  endured  were  excessively  difficult  for  her  to  en- 
dure. An  insult  stabbed  her  to  the  quick,  a  rebuff 
was  never  forgotten.  She  was  like  a  tuning  fork, 
tuned  to  a  clear  pitch  to  which  only  it  responds 
and  yet  is  jarred  by  the  discordant  sounds 
around  it. 

With  this  pride  of  spirit  was  naturally  a  pride  in 
personal  appearance  and  after  her  experience  in 
picking  blueberries  in  the  Highland  Pasture  to  buy 
open  work  stockings  the  miserable  clothes  she  was 
forced  to  wear  hurt  her  inborn  feelings  much.  She 
delighted  in  good  clothes,  in  ladylike  appearance,  in 
tasty  surroundings. 

In  spite  of  her  weight  of  humiliation  and  sorrow 
Dunora  carried  a  smiling  face  and  a  cheery  way.  It 
won  her  more  than  one  friend  and  saved  her  in  more 
than  one  desperate  situation.  It  lightened  many 
another  burden  especially  in  that  shoe  factory.  All 
day  long,  day  after  day,  the  lass  worked  at  a  ma- 
chine in  that  Lynn  factory.  Tired  at  night  she 
went  home  to  prepare  a  meal  which  would  only 
keep  soul  and  body  together  and  at  the  week's  end 
all  her  toil,  all  her  honesty,  all  her  effort  were  re- 
paid by  not  enough  to  buy  more  than  a  cheap  pair 
of  shoes  or  a  thin  cotton  dress.  And  all  this  time, 
as  all  over  the  civilized  world,  her  employers  and 
employers  of  other  like  laborers  were  fattening  their 
pocketbooks  merely  because  they  had  more  money  to 
start  with  in  the  first  place. 

Occasionally,  and  then  more  frequently,  the  super- 


THE  UNSEEN  STORM         117 

intendent  of  the  factory  passed  Dunora's  bench  and 
he  made  it  a  point  to  stop  and  talk  with  her.  Little 
by  little  he  induced  Dunora  to  tell  her  story  piece  by 
piece  and  he  read  her  misery  and  her  pitiable  situ- 
ation. The  innocent  girl  would  have  thought  she 
had  divulged  next  to  nothing  and  her  actual  words 
said  little  but  the  superintendent  surmised  the  re- 
mainder. 

Day  after  day  little  almost  unnoticed  kindnesses 
were  extended  to  Dunora  by  the  superintendent  or 
at  his  order.  One  day  at  the  elevator,  the  elevator 
man  offered  to  take  her  upstairs  instead  of  obliging 
her  to  walk  up  as  the  others  did.  He  offered  this  aid 
because  Dunora  was  so  cheery  and  pleasant.  The 
boss  of  the  floor  was  passing  by  and  saw  Dunora 
enter  the  elevator.  He  objected.  "See  here,  Brown," 
he  called  out,  "why  do  you  take  her  up.  You  know 
the  rules  are  that  no  employee  ride  on  the  elevator." 
The  superintendent  was  also  passing.  "Brown,  you 
take  that  girl  up  in  the  elevator  and  if  I  hear  any 
more  objections  from  you,  Billings,  I'll  fire  you." 

Some  days  later  the  superintendent  passed  Du- 
nora's bench  and  said,  "Come  down  into  my  office 
at  noon.  I  want  to  talk  to  you."  At  noon  the  little 
girl,  for  little  girl  she  was,  went  in  wonder  to  the 
office  door.  "Do  you  suppose  he  is  going  to  raise 
my  wages  ?"  was  the  thought  which  went  through  her 
brain. 

As  she  came  to  the  office  door  it  was  partially 
open  and  through  it  she  saw  the  superintendent  sit- 
ting expectantly  within.  She  hesitated  but  rapped 
softly  and  he  at  once  sprang  to  his  feet  and  threw 
the  door  completely  open  with  a  gesture  intended  to 
give  the  impression  of  chivalry.  "Come  in !"  he  said. 


118      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

She  followed  him  within  and  hardly  noticed  that 
he  closed  the  door  behind  her.  Pointing  to  a  com- 
fortable easy  chair,  he  asked  her  to  take  a  seat.  He 
did  not  begin  his  direct  conversation  at  once.  She 
simply  said  "yes"  and  "no"  as  he  asked  preliminary 
questions  about  the  factory  and  her  work  there. 
Then  he  turned  onto  other  matters.  "You  are  a 
very  good  looking  girl,"  he  remarked.  She  looked  at 
him  in  mute  wonder  not  understanding  why  he  made 
so  personal  a  remark.  She  made  no  answer  but 
instantly  wished  she  hadn't  come  into  the  office.  She 
arose.  He  exclaimed,  "What's  the  trouble?"  "I 
thought  you  wanted  to  see  me  on  business."  "I  do." 
She  remained  standing  waiting  for  him  to  disclose  his 
business.  "Please  sit  down.  There  is  no  hurry,"  he  re- 
marked. "I  have  noticed  your  work.  It  is  very  well 
done  and  there  are  few  in  the  factory  who  do  nearly 
as  well  as  you.  You  are  fit  for  better  things.  You 
are  not  in  your  right  place  here."  "What  do  you 
mean  by  that,  Mr.  Loring?  I  do  not  understand 
you.  I  am  but  a  young  girl  and  I  cannot  under- 
stand hidden  meanings.  You  will  have  to  talk 
plainly."  "I  mean  this.  You  are  out  of  your  proper 
surroundings  here.  You  should  not  work  in  this 
factory.  Everything  is  unpleasant  to  you  here. 
You  should  be  in  better  surroundings  and  you  can  be, 
if  you  will.  I  am  inclined  to  help  you.  The  place 
you  call  home  I  have  found  out  is  a  miserable  make- 
shift. 

"Now  I  have  everything  you  haven't.  Be  reason- 
able. No  one  need  know  of  this  talk.  It  is  between 
us.  I  will  give  you  everything  you  have  dreamed 
of  if  you  will  go  away  with  me." 

In  the  instant  that  Dunora  began  to  surmise  the 


THE  UNSEEN  STORM         119 

drift  of  his  words  a  moment  of  her  dreaming  came. 
For  the  instant  she  lost  her  immediate  surroundings 
and  a  vision  came.  She  saw,  ah!  so  distinctly,  the 
hell  she  had  been  through,  the  starvings,  the  bare 
rooms,  the  early  risings,  the  heart  wringing  work, 
the  lies,  the  deception,  the  distrust,  the  broken  vow. 
And  over  against  that  reality  came  a  picture  of  what 
the  other  side  would  mean,  pictured  as  only  her  vivid 
imagination  could  do  and  her  longing  for  pleasant 
surroundings  could  manufacture. 

All  this  occurred  probably  in  only  the  length  of 
time  psychologists  tell  us  a  dream  consumes,  namely, 
two  seconds.  Then  she  came  to  herself.  She  arose 
and  her  soul  shone  from  her  eyes.  "Mr.  Loring,  I 
did  not  come  into  this  office  to  be  insulted.  I  did  not 
come  here  to  hear  the  basest  insult  that  could  be 
given  a  woman.  I  supposed,  I  was  coming  into  the 
office  of  a  man.  I  see  I  did  not.  You  would  feel 
nicely  if  I  went  home  to  your  wife  and  told  her, 
wouldn't  you?  Oh,  yes,  you  can  well  turn  pale. 
There  isn't  a  human  being  on  earth  as  base  as  your 
kind.  You're  not  a  man,  you  are  a  coward,  a  selfish 
animal  lower  than  a  dog!" 

She  turned  to  go.  "Stop !"  he  called.  She  turned 
her  blazing  eyes  on  him.  "You  can  take  your  choice, 
you  can  either  do  as  I  say  or  you  are  discharged !" 
She  walked  right  up  to  him  and  fixed  his  now  shift- 
ing eyes  full  in  the  blaze  of  her  staring  orbs.  "There 
is  no  name  I  can  think  of  that  fits  you.  I  am  not 
used  to  knowing  filthy  names.  Oh,  I  was  fit  for  a 
better  life,  was  I?  I  was  out  of  my  proper  sur- 
roundings here,  was  I?  You  were  interested  in  my 
case,  were  you,  and  want  to  help  me?  You  show 
it  now,  don't  you?  You  show  your  true  colors  and 


120     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

they  are  the  dirtiest  on  earth!  Don't  think  you  can 
discharge  me!  Discharge  one  idea  you  have!  Dis- 
charge the  idea  that  I  would  ever  remain  in  this  fac- 
tory longer  than  to  get  my  hat !  I  discharge  you  as 
being  my  superintendent !" 

Hopeless,  dark,  hellish  grew  the  days  and  where 
she  had  been  promised  protection  she  found  every 
opposite  of  it.  No  man  is  so  base  as  he  who  takes 
advantage  of  a  woman.  The  worst  thing  on  earth 
is  taking  advantage  of  even  an  evil  woman  and  a 
worse  thing  than  the  worst  thing  on  earth  is  taking 
advantage  of  a  woman  who  has  even  the  least  pre- 
tense to  decency.  Might  never  made  right  and  never 
will.  Selfishness  never  was  right  and  never  will  be. 

She  dreaded  to  see  him  come  home  at  night.  No 
salutation  came  from  either  one.  Worse  and  worse 
grew  the  atmosphere.  She  never  gave  him  cause  for 
any  distrust  or  any  complaint  for  she  faithfully  did 
more  than  need  required  as  her  great  remorse  showed 
when  she  was  accused  of  having  put  in  too  much  salt 
to  suit  Boynton's  taste. 

Now  these  inclement  storms  which  beat  upon  this 
innocent  young  life  all  had  their  purpose,  though 
unseen  at  the  time. 

"It  takes  the  unseen  storms  of  life 
To  cut  with  deeper  wound  than  knife, 
And  from  the  operation  wild 
Produce,  at  length,  the  perfect  child." 

It  is  a  strange  perversion  of  human  nature  that 
when  a  person  is  persecuted  or  wronged  other  neigh- 
boring persons  take  pleasure  in  joining  in  the  perse- 
cution. It  is  the  rare  occasion  when  a  being  openly 


THE  UNSEEN  STORM         121 

takes  the  side  of  one  to  side  with  whom  might  be 
unpopular.  A  woman  living  in  the  same  house  where 
our  heroine  lived  in  the  attic,  lied  to  Boynton  one 
night  and  told  him  that  Dunora  had  been  seen  walk- 
ing on  the  street  with  a  man.  "So  you're  going  to 
play  me  false,  girl,  are  you?  I'll  teach  you  to!"  he 
exclaimed  and  he  shoved  her  into  an  empty  room 
and  kept  her  locked  therein  twenty-four  hours. 

When  shopping  with  her  he  would  swear  at  her 
and  call  her  filthy  names  right  in  front  of  clerks 
and  onlookers.  More  than  once  people  intervened 
in  her  behalf.  The  vilest  of  names  were  the  ones 
Boynton  chose  to  call  her  before  crowds.  Her  flesh 
fell  away,  her  mind  became  terribly  worried.  She 
began  to  age  when  not  out  of  her  teens.  Two  years 
of  this  were  borne  by  her,  every  day  an  increasing 
agony.  A  girl  baby  came.  Finally  he  began  to  beat 
her,  he  kicked  her  down  stairs  just  before  the  baby 
was  born  and,  longing  for  love,  saved  from  suicide 
by  the  Godsend  of  her  baby,  she  finally  brought  mat- 
ters to  a  head  by  spending  one  night  with  a  girl 
friend  and  the  next  day  leaving  him  and  passing 
through  the  door  out  into  the  world  without  the 
baby,  whom  she  could  not  support,  without  a  cent 
or  a  friend  and  only  the  poor  clothes  on  her  back. 

"And  from  the  operation  wild 
Produce,  at  length,  a  perfect  child." 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

OUT   INTO    THE    WORLD   ALONE 

OUT  into  the  world  alone !  Dear  little  Dunora, 
it  is  a  very  brave  step  you  have  taken,  for  you, 
unaided,  have  undertaken  to  beard  the  lion  in  his 
den,  to  face  the  world  where  the  devil  rules  in  ninety- 
nine  hearts  while  God  rules  in  one.  But  God  is 
watching  you  and  God  is  going  to  rule  in  your  dear 
heart. 

He-had-struck-her.  Four  small  words  yet  a  world 
of  meaning.  Her  wounded  spirit  answered  not  in 
words  but  deeply  within.  She  had  arisen  from  where 
she  had  been  stricken,  she  the  mother  at  sixteen! 
No  mother  lived  to  protect  her.  All  alone  she  had 
arisen  from  the  hellish  blow.  When  he  came  home 
that  night  Dunora  had  gone  to  a  girl  friend's. 

The  following  evening  Boynton  came  from  the 
shoe  shop  and  found  her  in  the  room.  The  inno- 
cent baby  lifted  its  arms  to  its  mother.  The  small 
Boynton,  for  he  was  small,  was  not  affected  by  the 
sacrifice  she  had  made  for  him  nor  by  the  baby's 
prattle.  "Where  were  you  last  night,  you  s — 
of  ab !" 

"Mr.  Boynton,  that  is  not  my  name.  When  you 
call  me  by  my  right  name  perhaps  I  will  answer." 
"Perhaps  you  will  answer!"  he  screamed.  "You'll 
answer  now,  damn  you!"  He  looked  into  Dunora's 

122 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      123 

white  face  and  a  look  he  had  never  seen  there  before 
calmed  him  suddenly.  He  turned  to  a  whipped 
whine.  "Where  were  you,  Dunora?"  he  asked.  "You 
do  not  suppose  I  would  stay  in  this  place  after  you 

struck  me.     I  went  to  Miss  's,"  mentioning  her 

friend's  name.  "You  lie,  you  she  devil !"  he  shouted. 
"You  were  out  all  night  with  a  man !" 

Into  Dunora's  cheeks  there  came  a  quick  flush. 
There  was  no  immediate  answer  made.  Slowly  she 
grew  rigid  then  the  storm  broke.  "You  miserable 
excuse  of  a  man,  you  will  never  have  a  chance  to 
speak  that  lie  in  my  hearing  again.  It  is  time  for 
me  to  speak  my  mind  and  have  my  say  now.  For 
all  these  long,  bitter  months  and  now  years  I  have 
endured  what  I  have  endured  and  I  don't  intend  to 
any  more.  Once  I  trusted  you.  You  took  advan- 
tage of  my  innocence  in  Gardiner.  I  knew  nothing 
of  the  world  but  you  and  I  believed  in  you.  You 
won  my  confidence  for  I  believed  you  would  help  me 
as  you  said  you  would.  How  have  you  kept  your 
word?  What  have  you  done  for  me?  Nothing. 
You  have  starved  me,  underclothed  me,  beaten  me, 
sworn  at  me,  lied  to  me,  debased  me  and  more  too 
and  I  have  not  turned  till  now  but  now  I  turn. 
When  have  you  taken  me  to  live  at  your  sister's? 
Never.  When  have  you  sent  me  to  school  as  you 
promised?  Never.  When  have  you  annulled  the 
marriage  which  was  undertaken  only  to  make  our 
trip  to  Boston  properly  chaperoned?  Never.  You 
meant  to  deceive  me  in  all  this  and  I  shall  be  deceived 
no  longer.  I  am  taking  matters  into  my  own  hands 
now  and  at  last  I  am  myself.  I'll  stand  your  abuse 
no  longer."  She  picked  up  her  hat  and  went  forth 
into  the  world. 


124     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Ah !  but  there  was  a  terrible  wrench  to  leave  that 
prattling  infant  behind.  That  one  fact  alone  proved 
the  inhumanity  of  her  treatment  much  more  than 
words  can.  How  much  that  is  terrible  do  you  sup- 
pose would  be  necessary  to  tear  a  mother  from  her 
only  child?  A  mother  from  a  child  whose  existence 
had  saved  her  from  suicide,  a  child  which  came  in 
agony  of  body  existing  with  an  untold  agony  of 
mind?  Ah,  think  well  of  that!  And  do  you  suppose 
that  little  lady  went  forth  from  that  door  with  a 
smile 'on  her  face?  Ah,  far  from  that! 

The  brave  words  she  had  spoken  within  were  for- 
gotten when  no  longer  they  were  needed  and  the 
most  pitiful  sight  on  any  street  that  day  was  to  be 
seen  at  that  door  in  the  heartless  city  of  Lynn.  Oh, 
what  a  pitiless  blast  smote  the  poorly  clad  form  of 
the  little  girl,  far,  far  too  young  to  be  a  mother. 
What  a  sight  was  that!  In  cushioned  and  velvet 
adorned  rooms  the  children  of  pampered  luxury  re- 
clined at  ease  or  indulged  in  their  selfish  amusements 
never  thinking  of  better  children  less  favored.  And 
who  thought  of  the  little  Dunora,  homeless,  friend- 
less, penniless,  childless,  foodless?  Only  He.  Oh,  it 
seems  like  fiction  and  as  if  it  couldn't  be  fact.  It 
seems  as  if  such  dreadful  things  could  not  have  hap- 
pened and  as  if  this  tale  must  be  a  work  of  an  over- 
excited imagination.  But  it  was  fact,  fact,  fact 
and  the  little  Dunora  faced  that  fact  alone  and  un- 
aided. All  honor  to  her!  How  many  other  girls,  if 
a  similar  situation  confronted  them,  would  have 
burned  every  bridge  behind  them  and  faced  an  un- 
known world  alone? 

Dunora  lifted  her  face  to  the  distant  heavens  as 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      125 

she  left  the  door  of  what  she  had  called  home  for 
want  of  a  better  name.  She  did  not  voice  a  prayer 
for  she  hardly  knew  how  but  a  great  mother  yearn- 
ing and  voiceless  agony  of  need  welled  from  her  great 
eyes.  She  did  not  heed  the  hurrying  people  on  the 
thoroughfare  below  for  her  mind  was  not  on  people 
but  conditions.  The  house  in  which  she  had  lived 
was  on  a  side  street  and  no  one  was  passing  as  she 
emerged  on  the  journey  that  was  to  be  so  momentous. 
Apparently  no  one  observed  her  and  the  heart- 
broken lass  slipped  into  a  passageway  between  high 
walled  houses  and  fell  to  the  ground  in  mortal  agony. 
Before  her  tear  brimmed  eyes  sped  the  panorama  of 
the  past  in  all  its  hideousness,  a  sorry,  sorry  sight 
for  a  girl  as  innocent,  guiltless  and  kind  as  ever 
lived.  And  she  saw  through  that  wooden  wall  she 
had  left  behind  her  the  helpless  baby,  born  of  her 
body,  conceived  in  her  agony,  sent  by  God  to  save 
her  from  despair  and  demolition — the  baby  her  every 
impulse  cried  out  for,  her  every  feeling  demanded. 

And  all  innocent  of  the  tragedy  of  suffering  of 
its  mother  the  prattling  infant  gurgled  on.  And 
in  her  mind's  recesses  Dunora  heard  her  infant's 
voice  and  threw  herself  upon  the  ground  and  sobbed. 
Pick  her  up  in  your  arms  of  love,  oh,  Thou  on  High ! 
For  she  needs  You.  Human  help  is  not  near  her 
and  no  human  ear  hears  her  as  she  rises,  stretches 
her  yearning  arms  toward  the  house  and  cries 
"Irene!  Oh,  Irene!" 

Yet  to  Dunora's  cry  there  was  no  response.  The 
unfeeling  walls  of  brick  and  stone  made  no  reply  and 
dumb  nature  was  silent  as  her  dumbness.  The  little 
mother  bent  her  head  after  her  heart's  appeal  and 


126     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

a  great  sob  poured  out  of  her  wounded  spirit  its 
very  essence.  Steeling  her  sorrow  marked  face  she 
put  forth  her  little  foot  and  her  journey  upward  in 
life  had  begun.  Against  the  organized  powers  of 
evil  and  the  innate  gluttony  and  selfishness  of  human 
beings,  the  little  Dunora  unknowingly  pitted  her- 
self and  the  path  she  was  to  tread  was  to  be  one 
never  exactly  so  trodden  by  any  mortal  before,  one 
fraught  with  untold  and  great  dangers,  perils  of 
body  and  soul  and  sufferings  of  mind  and  spirit  and 
marked  by  a  heroism  which  will  do  untold  good  in 
the  reading. 

At  the  moment  of  leaving  the  house  her  mind  had 
not  formulated  any  plan.  Her  one  desire  was  to 
break  the  environs  of  living  hell.  But  now  the 
thought  came,  "Where  shall  I  go?"  She  had  been 
so  closely  confined  to  the  rooms  where  Boynton  lived 
that  she  had  made  few  acquaintances  outside  and 
she  faced  the  world  alone.  She  turned  toward  the 
eastern  section  of  the  city  and  wandered,  at  first  a 
little  aimlessly  but  her  steps  took  a  definite  direc- 
tion soon  and  after  a  mile  or  so  of  being  alone  with 
her  almost  overwhelming  weight  of  thought  she  came 
to  a  small  house  on  one  of  the  great  avenues  of  Lynn, 
one  of  those  extending  east  and  west  and  limited 
only  by  the  eastern  and  western  boundaries  of  the 
municipality.  She  observed  a  sign  in  the  window, 
"Seamstress  wanted."  Then  she  went  down  town 
again,  but  returned. 

She  passed  through  the  little  yard,  went  up  the 
small  flight  of  steps  and  rang  the  clanging  door- 
bell which  echoed  and  re-echoed  through  the  cavern- 
ous interior  as  if  starting  to  life  the  ghosts  of  the 
long  silent  past  which  hurried  from  their  dusty  cor- 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      127 

ners  in  affright  only  to  hurry  back  again  and  re- 
lapse into  the  felt  quiet  of  their  customary  ex- 
istence. 

There  was  a  period  of  what  seemed  like  very  much 
prolonged  silence  following  the  clanging  of  the  bell. 
Then,  in  a  rear  room,  there  was  a  movement.  It 
was  that  of  a  lady  who,  with  spectacled  eyes,  had 
been  bending  over  some  sewing  and  so  bending  and 
working  as  if  she  were  accustomed  to  such  work. 
Slowly  she  put  down  the  spectacles  and  arose  delib- 
erately and  somewhat  reluctantly  as  if  fatigued. 
The  poor  woman  was  tired  from  prolonged  work. 
She  went  to  the  door  as  deliberately  as  she  had  arisen 
and  her  feet  fell  on  the  carpeted  floor  with  a  cadence 
which  indicated  a  quiet  and  easy  going  disposition. 
She  opened  the  door  in  a  businesslike  manner  as  if 
expecting  a  business  call.  And  it  was  such  though 
she  did  not  know  it.  As  she  opened  the  door  and 
beheld  Dunora  she  asked,  "What  do  you  wish,  little 
girl?"  "I  saw  a  sign  in  your  window  'Seamstress 
wanted.'  I  can  sew.  Can  I  have  the  position?" 
The  lady  smiled.  "Come  in,  dear,"  she  said.  The 
contrast  between  the  last  word  and  the  ones  to  which 
she  had  become  accustomed  was  startling  to  Dunora. 
She  went  in  at  once.  "I  can  sew.  I  really  can 
sew,"  asserted  the  girl  with  an  anxiety  which  showed 
her  exceeding  desire  to  secure  the  position.  "I've 
had  experience,"  she  added,  as  if  to  clinch  the  situa- 
tion. 

The  good  lady  smiled  indulgently.  "Never  mind 
about  the  experience,"  she  said.  "I  know  that  you 
will  do  for  what  I  want.  I  will  tell  you  a  secret. 
I  saw  you  when  you  passed  this  house  the  first  time. 
I  saw  you  look  at  the  sign  in  the  window.  You 


128     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

looked  so  innocent  and  trustful  that  my  heart  went 
out  to  you.  Your  great  big  eyes  spoke  to  me.  I 
saw  you  turn  away  but  something  told  me  you  would 
return.  Three  girls  came  here,  for  the  situation 
after  you  went  away  but  I  told  them  all  that  it  was 
taken  for  I  wanted  you  to  have  it  when  you  returned 
as  I  felt  you  would." 

Dunora  was  in  just  the  attitude  of  mind  to  have 
such  interest  as  this  strongly  appeal  to  her.  Not 
since  her  birth  could  she  ever  remember  words  as 
kind  even  as  this.  Her  heart  went  out  in  response  as 
much  as  a  crushed  heart  could  go.  In  this  unex- 
pected moment  and  when  most  needed  she  had  found 
a  friend.  "I  thank  you,"  was  all  she  said,  but  it 
meant  volumes  with  her. 

"Now  you  will  not  find  the  work  hard.  I  will 
teach  you  the  trade  of  seamstress  and  you  can  make 
it  your  trade  if  you  care  to  do  so.  I  have  plenty 
of  work  and  will  pay  you  six  dollars  a  week  to  start 
with."  Dunora  didn't  stop  to  think  how  far  six  dol- 
lars a  week  would  go  in  providing  for  the  need  of 
room,  food  and  clothes,  but  she  was  filled  with  joy 
at  the  thought  of  a  means  of  supporting  herself 
and  said,  "I  will  be  glad  to  do  the  work." 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

THE   CRY  OF  A  BROKEN   HEART 

AS  her  wearied  fingers  finished  their  first  day's 
faithful  task  she  had  to  hunt  up  a  room  in 
which  to  live  and  her  search  resulted  in  her  taking 
a  little  room  on  the  northerly  side  of  School  Street 
in  the  top  floor  of  an  apartment  house.  Oh,  that 
room  in  the  house  on  School  Street !  Did  its  builders 
imagine  such  a  scene  in  it  when  they  built  it?  No 
indeed !  With  them  it  was  a  business  of  dollars  and 
cents.  It  was  also  a  cold  blooded  business  of  dol- 
lars and  cents  to  the  landlady  who  opened  the  door 
for  Dunora.  For  Dunora  it  was  different. 

The  door  closed.  She  was  alone  for  the  first  time 
— without  her  daughter.  Ten  words — a  mental 
tragedy.  Who  can  describe  her  feelings?  Who  can 
tell  the  scene  those  four  walls  saw?  When  once  the 
door  was  closed,  for  the  first  night  without  her  baby 
Dunora  lost  all  restraint.  Nothing  to  be  seen  but 
four  silent,  pitiless  walls  and  the  man  who  drove  her 
from  the  apology  for  a  home  that  he  had  provided 
was  with  her  baby,  the  baby  for  which  she  had  suf- 
fered inhumanly,  the  baby  that  was  part  of  her  very 
life  and  for  which  alone  she  had  given  of  herself. 
The  great  mother  yearning  came  and  overwhelmed 
her  in  the  flood  of  its  emotion. 

"Oh,  Irene !  Irene !"  she  cried,  as  soon  as  the  f oot- 
129 


130     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

falls  of  the  landlady  grew  indistinct  on  the  stairs 
below.  "Oh,  Irene!  Irene!"  was  her  repeated  cry  as 
she  threw  her  little  body  on  the  bed  and  her  whole 
frame  wracked  itself  with  her  incessant  sobs.  The 
tears  came  copiously  and  the  spasms  of  her  anguish 
expressed  themselves  in  writhings  of  body  and  writh- 
ings  of  heart.  Her  grief  was  overwhelming.  And 
the  clock  struck  nine.  Each  beat  struck  a 
thrust  into  her  very  soul.  And  on  went  time 
in  that  hellish  night.  Can  you  imagine, 
youthful  mothers,  the  feelings  you  would  have  if  you 
were  torn  from  your  first  born  thus,  if  since  birth 
two  little  arms  had  twined  around  your  neck  at 
night  and  a  little  voice  had  said,  "You  seep, 
mamma?"  And  mamma  had  pretended  to  be  sound 
asleep  but  had  seen  through  even  closed  eyes  the 
little  part  of  her  own  body  creep  up  and  look  over 
to  see  if  mamma's  eyes  were  closed.  And  the  clock 
tolled  ten  on  Dunora's  wide,  streaming  eyes. 

The  mattress  became  wetter  and  wetter.  "Oh, 
baby,  baby,"  moaned  the  poor  Dunora  as  she  tossed 
to  another  side  of  the  tumbled  bed.  "Oh,  baby,  baby, 
b-a-b-y!  !  !"  And  then,  "Irene.  Irene!"  And  this 
till  eleven  was  struck  on  the  church  bell. 

Her  eyes  swelled,  her  breast  ached,  the  mattress 
grew  damper  and  damper  until  it  actually  grew 
moist  on  the  under  side.  And  twelve  struck  on  the 
clock  and  reverberated  through  the  still  streets. 
Midnight  had  arrived  and  Dunora  yet  sobbed  and 
sobbed  and  cried  for  "Baby !  Baby !"  And,  oh,  the 
void  of  those  little  arms  around  the  mother's  neck. 
And  one  struck.  And  two  struck !  Then  temporary 
exhaustion  came.  On  the  nether  wall  the  glare  from 
the  staring  arc  light  in  the  street  shimmered  on  the 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      131 

plaster.  Dunora's  weary  eyes  beheld  it  for  the  first 
time  and,  somehow,  the  sight  fascinated  her.  The 
optical  illusion  worked  on  her  overwrought  nerves 
and  took  possession  of  her.  She  seemed  fascinated 
by  the  scintillations  of  the  ever-changing  light  waves. 
They  journeyed  over  the  wall  as  if  chasing  one  an- 
other along  a  never  ending  road,  each  one  eager  to 
catch  its  predecessor.  Her  mind,  exhausted,  wan- 
dered. She  grew  delirious  from  terrific  strain  and 
tremendous  suffering.  Pitiful,  pitiful  was  the  sight. 
And  the  clock  tolled  three.  One! — two! — three! 
clanged  through  the  vacant  streets  and  into  the  un- 
hearing  ears  of  the  suffering  girl.  "Yes,  dearie, 
yes,  mother's  coming!"  and  she  put  up  her  arms  to- 
ward the  shimmering  light  on  the  wall  as,  in  her 
delirium,  she  saw  the  toddling  feet  of  the  little  Irene 
trudging  down  that  road  of  glory.  "Just  wait, 
precious !  I'll  catch  you !"  and  she  arose  from  the 
drenched  bed  and  staggered  toward  the  lighted  wall 
with  outstretched  arms  to  clasp  the  Irene  of  the 
vision.  "Mother's  coming,  dear,  don't  fall!  I'll  be 
there!  Steady,  dear!"  and  her  dear  outstretched 
arms  buckled  to  her  body  as  she  crashed  against 
the  stone-like  wall  and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 
The  blow  brought  the  tortured  girl  out  of  her 
vagary  and  to  her  right  senses.  With  a  wide-eyed 
stare  around  from  where  she  lay  in  a  pitiful  heap  she 
gathered  in  her  surroundings  and  circumstances. 
She  arose  with  an  unsteady  motion,  to  her  feet. 
Then  her  arms  were  thrown  upward  instantaneously 
and  there  came  from  her  beautiful  lips  a  long  drawn, 
pitiful,  agonized  and  tremulous  wail  like  the  long 
drawn  agony  of  a  departing  soul  and  the  dear  child 
mother  fell  absolutely  unconscious  to  the  floor.  Long 


132     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

her  form  remained  there  prone.  The  clock  slowly 
tolled  four  and  still  the  form  of  Dunora  lay  on  the 
floor  unconscious.  Another  long  hour  went  and 
one — two — three — four — five  struck  and  Dunora  had 
not  moved.  The  bird  life  of  the  city  stirred,  but 
the  poor  girl  heard  not  and  when  one — two — three 
— four — five — six  clanged  out  and  the  hurrying  feet 
of  the  early  toilers  went  by  Dunora  heard  not  even 
that.  Seven  tolled  and  she  lay  there.  Eight  struck 
with  no  movement  on  the  little  mother's  part.  There 
came  a  knock  at  the  door.  Dunora  heard  not.  It 
was  repeated  but  she  did  not  answer  the  summons. 
Then  the  door  was  shaken  but  it  made  no  impres- 
sion on  the  unconscious  form  of  Dunora.  The  mes- 
senger concluded  that  she  was  not  there  and  went 
away.  He  was  the  son  of  the  seamstress  for  whom 
she  had  gone  to  work  the  previous  morning.  When 
he  returned  without  Dunora  the  good  lady  sent  her 
daughter,  for  she  felt  that  something  was  wrong. 
This  girl  came  to  the  door  between  eight  and  nine 
and  she  knocked  and  the  unconscious  Dunora  heard 
not  even  then.  But  the  girl  caller  was  prepared  for 
eventualities  and  she  took  from  her  pocket  a  skeleton 
key  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  on  Dunora's 
door.  When  the  door  was  opened  the  sight  that 
met  her  gaze  made  her  gasp  with  astonishment.  "My 
God !"  she  exclaimed  with  the  first  cry  of  the  utterly 
astonished.  She  flew  to  the  poor,  prostrate  form 
and  picked  the  unconscious  Dunora  up  in  her  arms. 
Then  she  rubbed  her  face  and  breast  and,  as  she 
didn't  arouse,  the  caller  rushed  for  a  tumbler  of 
water  and  returned  to  rub  it  on  Dunora's  face  and 
chest. 

Then  slowly  the  great  suffering  eyes  rolled  open 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      133 

and  stared  blankly  at  the  girl  who  held  her  propped 
up  in  her  arms.  She  did  not  speak.  She  did  not 
understand.  "Dunora !  Dunora !  Don't  you  know 
me?"  spoke  the  girl.  Finally  Dunora  found  words. 
"Where  am  I?"  she  asked. 

"Never  mind  where  you  are,  dear,  now.  You'll 
come  with  me  soon  where  we  will  care  for  you."  And 
she  put  Dunora,  whose  rumpled  clothes  bespoke  the 
night  of  horror  she  had  spent,  on  the  bed.  Finally, 
after  she  had  been  cared  for  and  soothed  enough,  the 
girl  took  Dunora  out  and  gave  her  a  hot  dinner.  It 
was  the  first  respectable  meal  she  had  eaten  for 
many,  many  weeks. 

When  she  arrived  at  her  place  of  work  it  was 
with  swollen  eyes  and  puffed  cheeks  and  every  other 
sign  of  her  fearful  night.  She  was  woefully  weak 
but  took  up  her  task  with  the  bravery  which  always 
characterized  her.  That  afternoon,  late,  great  joy 
came  to  her  for  she  went  to  the  place  where  Irene 
boarded  and  clasped  her  in  her  arms.  Did  that 
night  just  passed  come  up  in  her  mind?  Did  the 
contrast  between  that  night  and  having  Irene  in 
her  arms  come  up  in  her  mind? 

Irene  was  a  most  endearing  child.  Dunora  was 
accustomed  to  sleep  beside  her  crib  and  early  in  the 
mornings  the  little  girl  would  peek  up  over  the  iron 
rail  at  her  apparently  sleeping  mother  and  then 
slowly  creep  over  the  rail  onto  the  bed  and  behind 
Dunora  where  she  would  cuddle  down  saying,  "I 
know  I'se  naughty  but  I  wants  my  mamma."  Then 
invariably  the  little  hand  crept  over  the  body  of  her 
mother  and  rested  lovingly  around  her  neck.  And 
with  a  mother  so  lonely,  so  denied  the  lovely  and 
enjoyable  things  of  life  can  any  one  else  appreciate 


134     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

how  fully  that  youthful  mother  thrilled  with  that 
touch. 

"Oh,  Irene,  Irene!  Mamma  never  even  knew  how 
much  she  loved  you  till  last  night.  Dear  little  girlie," 
and  here  she  recrushed  her  in  her  arms,  "you  will 
never  know  what  mamma  suffered  last  night  and  I 
want  you  never  to  know.  Oh,  Irene,  Irene,  how 
mamma  does  love  you,  oh,  how  mamma  does  love 
you!"  And  the  poor  little  mother  buried  her  head 
in  the  bosom  of  her  first  born. 

And  the  little  lass,  innocent  of  knowledge,  laughed 
a  childish  laugh  of  guileless  simplicity  and  utter 
mother  love. 

Two  weeks  went  by  and  each  day  when  not  ex- 
hausted with  work  the  Dunora  who  spurned  all  for 
honor's  sake  saw  Irene  at  her  place  of  boarding. 
With  what  delirium  of  anticipation  she  toiled  with 
tired  fingers  through  the  long  hours  of  work  looking 
forward  to  the  hour  of  meeting.  The  poor  Dunora 
as  well  as  working  at  learning  the  trade  of  dress- 
making for  the  pittance  for  which  she  worked  also 
worked  for  her  meals.  Consequently  from  complete 
exhaustion  she  did  not  see  Irene  every  day.  About 
two  weeks  after  the  night  of  horror  she  called  at 
Irene's  house  as  usual.  Irene  always  came  to  the  door 
when  her  mother  called.  This  time  she  didn't,  but  the 
lady  of  the  house  came  instead.  "Where  is  Irene?" 
asked  Dunora.  "She  isn't  here,"  was  the  reply. 
"When  is  she  coming  back?"  asked  the  astonished 
girl.  "She  isn't  coming  back.  Her  father  took  her 
away  two  days  ago." 

The  stricken  girl  slowly  staggered.  A  deadly 
pallor  spread  over  her  features  as  she  reeled,  a  pal- 
lor deadlier  than  ever  seen  there  before.  Into  her 


OUT  INTO  THE  WORLD      185 

inmost  soul  was  sinking  the  awful  bitterness  of  the 
situation  and  it  was  sinking  swiftly  and  to  the  very 
bottom.  All  this  transpired  quite  instantaneously 
as  the  girl  reeled  from  the  deadly  blow.  Then,  be- 
fore Irene's  landlady  could  really  grasp  the  situa- 
tion or  seize  Dunora,  she  fell  senseless  to  the  piazza. 
And  it  was  a  deadly  senselessness,  not  an  ordinary 
faint.  Surely  it  was  the  giving  up  of  all  but  life. 
Every  effort  was  made  to  restore  the  poor  girl  to 
consciousness  but  each  effort  and  the  combined  ef- 
forts were  of  no  avail.  Her  heart  beat  in  the  faint- 
est of  manners  but  she  was  all  but  dead.  Tenderly 
those  who  had  come  to  her  assistance  lifted  her  un- 
conscious form  and  carried  her  to  her  room  on 
School  Street.  No  assistance  they  could  summon 
succeeded  in  arousing  her  from  her  coma.  Soon 
she  grew  delirious  and  raved  of  "Irene!  Irene!" 
simply  repeating  the  name  of  her  child  in  a  tone 
which  would  melt  the  heart  of  the  most  stony.  And 
hour  after  hour  she  repeated  that  heartbroken  cry 
in  the  hour  after  hour  lasting  unconsciousness. 
Finally  food  was  given  her  by  hypodermic  method 
and  forced  feeding  through  the  mouth.  And  the 
hours  of  unconsciousness  dragged  into  further  hours 
of  coma  and  the  hours  of  coma  dragged  into  the 
night  and  the  succeeding  day  of  that  almost  imper- 
ceptible breathing,  that  hardly  distinguishable  heart 
flutter  and — oh  that  almost  never  ceasing  cry  of 
"Irene !  I-I-I-r-e-e-n-e !  Oh,  Irene !"  Nero  in  all  his 
callousness,  the  very  personification  of  utter  heart- 
lessness,  could  not  have  withstood  that  constant  re- 
iteration of  the  wail  of  a  mother's  lacerated  heart. 
The  next  day  she  failed  to  rally,  and  the  next  and 
the  next  and  a  week  elapsed  and  she  was  yet  un- 


136     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

conscious.  Two  weeks  passed  with  no  sign  of  life 
except  the  intermittent  breathing  and  then  the  third 
week  began — and  it  ended  with  Dunora  still  uncon- 
scious. 

Could — any — person — have — suffered — more  ? 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

HOPELESS   DAYS  AND  A  WEARY  EOAD 

THE  terrible  days  of  strain  for  the  watchers 
at  Dunora's  bedside  drew  to  twenty-one  in 
number.  Our  language,  although  the  master  lan- 
guage of  earth  and  a  compound  of  all  the  best  in 
other  languages,  does  not  possess  in  all  its  varied 
vocabulary  words  which  will  truly  describe  the  ter- 
rific blow  the  news  had  been  to  Dunora.  To  have 
caused  a  fainting  spell  of  a  few  minutes'  extent  would 
not  have  been  extraordinary  but — to  even  have  the 
unconsciousness  extend  over  one  hour  was  most  ex- 
traordinary, very  extraordinary,  indeed.  When  that 
hour  lengthened  into  a  forenoon  it  was  worthy  to 
attract  wide  attention  but  when  the  stricken  girl 
was  oblivious  of  her  surroundings  for  twenty-four 
hours  it  is  doubtful  if  a  similar  occurrence  had  ever 
taken  place  on  earth.  Multiply  that  twenty-four 
hours  by  twenty-one  and  the  astonishing  result  of 
five  hundred  and  four  hours  is  obtained.  And  for 
more  than  five  hundred  and  four  hours  Dunora  was 
unconscious  as  a  result  of  the  information  given  her 
by  that  landlady. 

As  the  first  day  of  the  fourth  week  began  to  dawn 
only  her  girl  room-mate  was  left  of  those  who  had 
watched.  The  remainder  had  proved  unfaithful  to 
the  opportunity  to  serve  one  of  the  most  deserving 

137 


138     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

of  God's  human  creatures.  But  the  room-mate 
proved  faithful  to  the  task  of  affection.  Slowly  the 
darkness  of  the  long  night  of  unconsciousness  and  the 
mists  of  sweet  oblivion  passed  from  the  dear  girl  and 
gradually  those  great  frank  eyes  opened — to  what? 
To  a  merely  bare  room,  to  one  penniless  faithful 
watcher,  to  a  lost  position  at  the  dressmaker's,  to 
an  empty  pocket  book  and  gnawing  hunger. 

"Where — where  am  I?"  Dunora  asked.  "Right 
where  you  are  safe,  dear,"  answered  the  room-mate. 
"Who — am — I?"  queried  the  bewildered  girl  in  a 
second  utterance.  "Your  own  dear  self.  Now  go 
to  sleep,  dear,  you  are  tired,"  and  her  unconscious- 
ness had  worn  on  her  so  that  she  fell  into  a  natural 
sleep  which  the  watcher  assisted  by  remaining  per- 
fectly quiet. 

Quite  a  time  thereafter  Dunora  awoke.  She,  at 
first,  seemed  to  have  no  recollection  of  the  act  which 
had  caused  her  awful  loss  of  life's  functions.  It  is 
certain  that  her  room-mate,  Olive,  did  not  assist  her 
in  remembering  the  past  and  it  is  also  certain  that 
Olive  did  all  in  her  power  to  turn  her  mind  from 
any  chance  remembrance  of  what  had  occurred. 
Olive  truly  deserves  more  than  a  passing  reference. 
Nature  had  endowed  her  with  no  large  measure  of 
physical  attractiveness,  yet  it  is  a  quite  frequent 
act  of  Nature  to  make  a  homely  exterior  be  but  the 
earthen  framework  which  supports  an  interior  of 
sterling  worth.  Such  was  Olive.  Years  later 
Dunora  was  enabled  to  repay  her  in  part,  but  such 
deeds  of  human  kindness  can  never  be  fully  repaid 
on  this  earth.  It  is  such  acts  which  make  the  wheels 
of  existence  run  far  more  smoothly,  it  is  such  acts 
that  take  the  sordidness  out  of  a  sordid  world. 


HOPELESS  DAYS  139 

As  soon  as  Dunora  awoke  from  her  sleep  she 
said  "Olive,  I  am  hungry."  Over  Olive's  face  a  pecu- 
liar expression  flitted  and  there  was  a  momentary 
hesitation.  "All  right,  dear,"  she  responded,  and 
went  to  a  cubby  hole  from  which  she  took  two  dough- 
nuts and  brought  them  to  Dunora.  "I  do  not  think 
you  should  eat  much  at  first.  Your  stomach  is  a 
little  weak  and  you  have  been  having  a  little  time  in 
which  it  didn't  act  well."  "Didn't  act  well!  What 
do  you  mean  ?"  Olive  had  said  too  much  and  hastily 
beat  a  retreat.  "Oh,  you  know  I  meant  that  your 
stomach  has  been  weak  as  you  know."  "Oh !"  said 
the  now  satisfied  Dunora. 

She  ate  the  doughnuts  with  relish.  "Oh,  Olive,  I 
am  so  hungry.  Do  you  suppose  more  food  would 
hurt  me?"  Olive  grimaced  for  she  didn't  wish  to 
even  evade  the  truth.  "I  do  not  think  it  would  be 
best  for  you  to  eat  more  now,"  she  replied.  Dunora, 
when  she  had  eaten,  fell  to  dreaming  day  dreams. 
She  was  fortunately  kept  from  realization  of  the 
past  three  weeks  before.  Providence  blesses  in  ways 
at  times  when  it  also  purifies  from  dross  by  seeming 
severe  methods. 

Olive  sat  looking  at  her  day  dreaming  and  so 
blessedly  unconscious  of  the  weeks  of  unconscious- 
ness through  which  she  had  been.  Again  stupor 
overtook  Dunora,  for  it  is  not  suddenly  that  the  full 
awakening  comes  from  such  a  stupor.  Olive  did 
not  in  the  least  disturb  the  convalescing  girl  and 
only  thanked  fortune  that  Dunora  was  coming  on 
nicely  from  her  long  oblivion.  And  she  also  dreaded 
the  awakening  to  full  understanding.  By  subter- 
fuge she  had  evaded  the  direct  statement  that  the 
doughnuts  were  all  that  was  in  the  room  in  the  na- 


ture  of  food  and  that  her  pocket  book  was  chiefly 
remarkable  for  being  empty,  or  nearly  so,  and  the 
state  of  Dunora's  finances  she  was  able  to  determine 
only  by  guesswork.  The  situation  required  diplo- 
matic action  on  the  part  of  Olive. 

While  Dunora  was  sleeping  she  examined  the  ac- 
tual condition  of  the  contents  of  her  pocket  book 
and  found  that  her  worldly  possessions  amounted 
to  the  royal  sum  of  seventy-five  cents.  She  really 
knew  what  she  had  before  she  looked,  but  looking 
again  might  tend  to  increase  the  size  of  the  purse's 
contents  by  optical  illusion.  Yet  no  such  illusion 
took  place.  The  cold  hard  sum  of  severity-five  cents 
was  the  total  sum  obtainable  and  she  had  lost  her 
position  through  faithfulness  to  Dunora  and  she 
knew  that  Dunora  had  lost  her  situation  with  the 
seamstress  because  of  her  long  period  of  nervous 
illness.  But  Dunora  was  delightfully  unconscious 
of  these  facts  as  yet  and  Olive  intended  that  she 
should  remain  so  as  long  as  possible. 

As  seventy^-five  cents  was  the  total  sum  from 
which  she  could  feed  both  till  she  got  a  new  position, 
Olive  determined  on  a  new  strategy.  Going  to  the 
table  she  wrote  a  note  as  follows: 

"Dunora  dear — 

As  you  are  sleeping  so  nicely  I  have  just  gone 
to  the  baker's  for  some  food  and  will  be  right  back. 
I  only  write  this  in  case  you  wake  up  in  the  next  few 
minutes  before  I  return. 

Olive." 

Then  she  hurried  to  the  baker's.  Her  planned 
strategy  bothered  her.  She  hesitated  as  she  ap- 


HOPELESS  DAYS  141 

preached  the  shop  and  paused  irresolutely  at  the 
door.  There  were  other  people  in  the  shop  when 
she  entered  and  that  pleased  her.  It  gave  her  de- 
lay in  which  she  could  muster  her  scattered  wits. 
She  let  every  person  in  the  store  have  their  wants 
supplied  before  she  approached  the  proprietor.  He 
was  a  matter-of-fact  man  which  means  he  had  little 
of  enduring  sentiment  and  much  of  fleeting  matter. 

"Please,  sir" — and  the  kind  girl  hesitated — "may 
I  have  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  dozen  doughnuts?" 
"Sure!"  replied  the  matter-of-fact  baker.  "But 
wait,  mister.  I  have  a  friend  in  my  room  who  is 
ill  and  has  been  for  three  weeks  and  I  have  watched 
over  her.  Both  of  us  have  lost  our  positions  because 
she  has  been  sick  and  we  haven't  any  money  hardly. 
I  have  less  than  a  dollar  and  I  don't  know  how 
much  she  has  got  for  she  is  too  sick  for  me  to  ask. 
I  will  soon  find  work  and  I  am  honest.  Will  you 
please  let  me  charge  that  bread  and  those  dough- 
nuts and  I'll  surely  pay  you  as  soon  as  I  can?" 

The  matter-of-fact  baker  looked  at  her  with  a 
steely  glance.  "Do  you  take  this  for  a  charitable 
institution?  We  extend  no  charity  here.  I  am  in 
this  business  for  money,  money,  and  this  isn't  a 
Christian  institution !" 

Olive  recoiled  from  the  words  as  a  woman  would 
recoil  from  a  blow.  The  words  stunned  her  and  she 
took  a  little  time  to  recover  her  poise.  Then,  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  man  her  gentle  womanliness 
asserted  itself.  "If  you  were  doing  business  in  a 
little  more  Christian  manner  perhaps  you  would 
learn  that  it  would  be  money  in  your  pocket  finally. 
I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  of  heart."  And  she 
walked  out  of  the  door. 


142     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Turning  to  another  store  she  paid  for  what  she 
wanted  and  thus  lessened  her  store  of  money.  Then 
she  hastened  back  to  the  room  and  found  Dunora 
lying  awake  and  waiting.  "Hungry,  girlie?"  Olive 
asked.  "Very!"  Dunora  replied.  "Well,  I  have  a 
big  dinner  here,"  and  she  smiled.  "I  have  roast  tur- 
key and  cranberry  sauce,  mashed  potato  and  plurn 
pudding  with  hard  sauce,  all  sweet  as  honey,  and — 
and — I  have  lots  of  other  things !"  And  she  smiled 
a  wan  smile.  It  was  a  very  wan  smile,  very  wan 
indeed.  Dunora  could  hardly  grasp  the  news,  she 
wasn't  used  to  such.  Olive  thought  a  sudden  burst 
of  joy  would  rouse  her  from  her  lethargy,  even 
though  she  would  have  to  tell  her  the  bitter  truth 
all  too  soon. 

Dunora,  in  a  most  pitiful  way,  put  forth  a  white 
hand  for  the  expected  food  and  did  not  utter  a  word. 
Words  were  difficult  to  utter  then.  Olive  gave  to 
her  a  slice  of  bread  buttered  with  a  very  thin  appli- 
cation of  long  saved  butter.  Dunora  took  it,  looked 
at  it,  then  spoke.  "You  didn't  mention  bread,"  she 
said.  "Oh,"  replied  Olive,  "you  know  that  bread  is 
always  put  on  as  a  first  course  and  prepares  the  way 
for  the  other  food.  It  is  best  to  eat  bread  first." 

Dunora  ate  ravenously.  Olive  gave  her  a  second 
slice  of  buttered  bread  and  Dunora  was  so  hungry 
that  she  didn't  mention  the  bread  or  remark  its  ap- 
pearance the  second  time  and  the  second  slice  was 
eaten  with  the  gusto  with  which  the  first  had  been 
rendered  fit  for  digestion.  Drowsiness  from  a  par- 
tially satisfied  condition  of  the  stomach  began  to 
show  itself  in  Dunora's  face  and  when  the  following 
doughnut  was  partially  eaten  her  hand  fell  at  her 
side  and  again  she  slept  unaware  of  the  moneyless 


HOPELESS  DAYS  143 

situation  they  faced  and  the  void  in  the  larder. 
Would  that  she  might  restfully  sleep  until  some 
magic  wand  swung  over  her  and  performed  the 
miracle  of  giving  plenty. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

THE   HIGHLAND    PASTURE 

THERE  on  that  far  looking  hill  in  Gardiner, 
Maine,  is  that  highland  pasture  made  sacred 
by  myriad  footfalls  of  the  weary  feet  of  the  child 
Dunora.  And  those  girlish  feet  seldom,  if  ever,  were 
clad  in  any  covering  but  walked  over  the  bruising 
stubble  with  many  an  ache  and  leaving  many  a  mark 
of  the  purest  of  blood. 

A  rugged  grass  plot  divides  West  Street  from 
the  pasture's  ragged  stone  wall  which  would  have 
made  a  right  angle  with  its  apex  pointing  toward 
the  house  of  Dunora's  foster  parents,  had  not  some 
inhabitant  of  Gardiner,  long  since  joined  to  those 
in  the  silent  halls  of  death,  opened  that  angle  by 
tearing  through  the  stones  there  and  thus  formed  a 
gateway  to  the  pasture. 

Consequently,  as  the  traveller  came  from  the 
house  of  Dunora's  former  residence,  he  would  pass 
through  this  opening  in  a  northeasterly  direction 
right  into  this  highland  grazing  ground.  The  pas- 
ture strikes  off  in  a  masterful  manner  as  if  to  throw 
its  rock  and  earth  uplands  across  Cobbosseecontee 
Stream  but  loses  its  courage  at  the  last  moment  and 
slopes  gradually  to  meet  the  kiss  of  the  waters. 

Along  its  West  Street  border  seven  young  oaks 
144 


THE  HIGHLAND  PASTURE  145 

rear  their  blast  defying  heads  to  the  howling  north- 
easters which  sweep  down  upon  them  in  winter  with 
the  full  force  of  the  unimpeded  tempest.  Then  two 
of  the  more  graceful  maples  lift  their  Diana-like 
limbs  as  if  to  apologize  for  the  roughness  of  their 
sturdy  neighbors  even  in  so  wild  a  spot.  Just  be- 
yond the  maples  five  ghostly  white  birches  gleam 
in  their  purity  as  if  standing  there  as  mighty  senti- 
nels to  keep  the  midnight  road  mariner  off  the  reef 
of  the  stone  wall. 

The  westerly  edge  of  the  rugged  pasture  is 
shielded  from  any  disturbing  element  by  a  sturdy 
wood  where  the  pine,  hemlock,  spruce,  fir,  birch, 
oak  and  maple  grow.  Trespassing  upon  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  pasture,  the  outposts  of  the  forest  have 
boldly  taken  their  advanced  stand  and  advanced  their 
picket  lines.  But  right  here  the  battle  begins,  for 
the  sweet  fern  does  not  permit  the  young  growth  to 
have  its  own  way  in  its  endeavor  to  possess  the  pas- 
ture but  from  its  lesser  height  seems  to  say,  "Look 
here,  I'll  leave  it  to  the  judgment  of  the  public.  Here 
you  trees  are  trying  to  grasp  everything  here  and 
what  pay  do  you  give  to  the  people  for  doing  so? 
It  takes  years  for  you  to  amount  to  anything  and 
then  you  are  only  good  when  you  are  cut  down.  But 
look  at  me.  Why  I  grow  up  in  a  season  and  you 
can't  uproot  me  except  with  a  great  effort  and  all 
the  time  I  live  I  give  out  such  a  sweet  odor  that  I 
am  called  the  sweet  fern.  So  you  see  the  pasture 
should  belong  to  me."  But  the  forest  never  answers 
a  word  but  just  grows  and  grows  and  grows. 

Woe  betide  the  person  who  tries  to  meander 
through  that  pasture  for  the  tentacles  of  the  young 


146     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

growth  whip  him  in  the  face,  the  pine  boughs  brush 
his  eyes  and  the  sweet  fern  clings  to  his  limbs  with 
a  tenacity  which  permits  no  denying. 

Continuing  through  the  clinging  fern  in  a  north- 
easterly direction  you  come  to  a  stone  wall  sur- 
mounted by  a  barbed  wire  fence,  rusted  with  age, 
which  pretends  to  prevent  passage  to  the  orchard  be- 
yond. On  the  distant  hills  beyond  Cobbosseecontee 
Stream  the  rolling  slopes  are  covered  with  thriving 
Baldwin  apple  orchards  of  young  and  vigorous 
growth  and  prosperous  and  well  painted  farm  houses 
sit  there.  Had  Dunora  been  brought  up  in  one  of 
those  dwellings  this  wonderful  life  would  never  have 
been  lived  and  this  book  never  written.  But  it  was 
otherwise  ordained  and  so  the  youthful  Dunora  daily 
drove  the  cow  through  the  stile  and  out  into  what 
the  forest  left  of  the  pasture  and  there,  at  night,  the 
little  girl  searched  through  the  forest  paths  for  her 
bovine  charge  fearing  the  leap  of  imaginary  lynx  or 
panther.  Ah,  those  fears  of  childhood,  how  real  they 
are!  How  you  can  feel  the  claws  of  the  wild  beast 
sink  into  your  back  as  it  leaps  from  every  limb  un- 
der which  you  pass.  And  each  crack  of  rotting 
twig  or  creak  of  swaying  limb  sends  every  nerve 
tingling  to  its  extremity.  And  how  great  the  cruelty 
of  sending  a  little  girl  out  to  seek  a  wandering  beast 
in  a  forest  at  nightfall. 

Just  where  the  pasture  gives  up  the  attempt  to 
pontoon  Cobbosseecontee  with  its  massive  weight  it 
makes  a  little  hollow,  seemingly  drawing  down  to 
take  breath  from  another  attempt  at  proceeding  to 
meet  the  opposite  hills.  In  this  hollow  a  clear  stream 
flows  and  to  cross  it  one  must  either  wet  their  feet 
or  clamber  over  the  lichen  covered  stone  wall.  Then, 


THE  HIGHLAND  PASTURE  147 

with  a  last  despairing  effort  to  rear  its  head  the 
pasture  gives  up  the  fight  and  slopes  rapidly  to- 
ward the  river,  clothing  its  face  in  forest  growth  to 
hide  the  shame  of  its  defeat. 

Here  the  partridge  drums  to  his  mate  when  Spring 
bursts  its  bands  and  the  high  hole  yarrups  from  his 
tree  top  and  the  hyla  trebles  to  the  evening  air. 
While  all  was  thus  in  the  joy  of  Springtime,  and 
the  apple  blossoms  were  in  their  glory  in  the  adja- 
cent orchard,  the  boat  from  Boston,  the  before-men- 
tioned "City  of  Bangor,"  drew  into  the  dock  at  Gar- 
diner and  there  alighted  therefrom  a  girl.  She  no- 
ticed no  one,  but,  intent  on  continuing  her  journey, 
started  directly  toward  Water  Street  and,  looking 
neither  to  right  nor  left,  walked  up  the  right  hand 
side  of  Water  Street  until  it  met  the  lower  end  of 
West  Street  near  the  bridge  over  Cobbosseecontee 
Stream.  Turning  to  the  left  she  began  to  climb  the 
lesser  hills  which  rose  in  succession  to  the  higher  emi- 
nence of  Iron  Mine  Hill  which  is  crowned  by  our 
highland  pasture. 

The  territory  seemed  very  familiar  to  her  and 
she  ascended  the  long  climb  with  a  setness  of  pur- 
pose which  bespoke  a  destination  beyond,  which  she 
sought  with  no  uncertainty.  Yet  finally  she  did 
hesitate  as  wayside  scenes  more  and  more  attracted 
her.  At  the  beginning  of  the  orchard,  then  in  the 
full  glory  of  its  bloom,  she  paused.  Turning  to  the 
northeast  and  the  orchard  clad  hills  beyond  Cob- 
bosseecontee she  gazed  long  and  meditatively  in  that 
direction  and  her  breast  rose  and  fell  with  the  inflow 
and  outgo  of  deep  breathing.  Who  can  tell  what  her 
thoughts  were  at  that  time?  Who  can  tell  why  she 
lingered  there  longer  than  for  the  time  necessary 


148     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

for  her  rest  from  the  ascent?  And  the  throw  back 
which  she  gave  to  her  shoulders  indicated  a  throw- 
ing off  of  some  weight  which  had  been  acquired  else- 
where and  a  breathing  there  again  of  the  free  air  of 
heaven.  A  deep  sigh  of  relaxation  came  from  her 
as  she  stood  there  and  she  seemed  lost  in  looking  at 
the  scene  as  if  memories  were  associated  with  that 
vista. 

Then,  with  a  renewing  of  purpose,  she  again  be- 
gan climbing  the  hill  and  passed  the  two  or  three 
closely  gathered  country  homes  which  cling  to  the 
hill  just  as  you  approach  its  summit  and  just  as 
you  leave  the  orchard  and  come  to  the  stone  wall, 
the  birches,  the  maples  and  the  oaks  which  fringe 
the  highland  pasture. 

Here  she  stopped  again  and  remained  longer  and 
her  thoughts  were  evidently  deeper.  Her  eyes 
roamed  over  every  inch  of  the  pasture  that  was 
visible  and  a  look  which  was  hard  to  read  came  over 
her  face.  Pain  was  in  that  look  as  well  as  reminis- 
cence, and  a  man  of  inquisitive  nature  would  have 
liked  to  have  known  the  reason  therefor. 

Then  she  turned  toward  the  stone  wall  and  the 
entrance  through  it  and  stopped  in  it,  again  survey- 
ing the  pasture.  Then,  satisfied  with  her  scanning 
of  the  scene,  she  turned  abruptly  toward  the  more 
westerly  of  two  homes,  the  one  we  have  described 
before.  Three  winters  had  clothed  those  pine  clad 
hills  in  snow,  three  summers  had  dressed  the  trees 
in  green  and  three  springs  had  glorified  the  scenery 
with  their  halos  of  apple  blossoms  since  that  girl 
had  walked  that  road.  A  summons  from  the  house 
which  she  was  approaching  had  brought  the  girl 
from  the  metropolis  of  New  England  and  the  sum- 


THE  HIGHLAND  PASTURE  149 

mons  was  one  of  the  commanding  summons  of  life. 
The  Dark  Angel  was  hovering  near  that  highland 
home  by  the  highland  pasture. 

The  girl  had  written  that  she  was  coming  and 
expected  a  welcome.  She  came  to  the  house  and  saw 
no  one  near  or  within.  At  the  kitchen  door  she  hesi- 
tated. And  well  she  might  for  there  came  to  her 
mind  her  last  words  when  she  had  crossed  that 
threshold  three  years  before.  They  were  spoken  to 
the  thoughtless  two  who  lived  there  and  the  words 
were  wrung  from  a  crushed  heart — "I'll  never  cross 
this  threshold  again  unless  sickness  or  death  calls 
me !"  And  they  had  called. 

The  kitchen  door  was  open.  In  that  honest 
country  people  leave  their  homes  for  hours  at  a 
time  with  doors  unlocked.  But  there  is  an  excep- 
tion to  this,  for  front  doors  are  always  locked  and 
seldom  opened,  for  passage  to  and  from  the  interior 
is  almost  always  through  the  kitchen  door. 

The  girl  walked  through  the  yielding  door  and 
into  the  kitchen.  There  was  no  one  there  but  the 
fire  was  burning  and  food  was  cooking  on  the  range. 
So  they  had  not  gone  for  any  length  of  time  and 
she  waited.  But  it  was  very  strange  to  her  for  she 
had  been  summoned  for  sickness  and  no  one  was  even 
sick  enough  to  remain  in  the  house.  So  the  girl  sat 
down  in  a  chair  and  waited  for  some  one  to  return. 

A  half  hour  later  a  carriage  could  be  heard  rat- 
tling up  West  Street  and  the  subdued  sound  of  the 
voices  of  the  two  occupants.  As  they  approached 
the  words  became  audible.  The  girl  in  the  chair  in 
the  kitchen  turned  pale  as  she  heard  one  of  those 
voices.  Three  eventful  years  before  she  had  heard 
that  voice  in  scolding  tones  and  it  was  the  difference 


150     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

in  the  tone  of  that  voice  that  had  made  the  girl 
turn  pale.  Three  years  before  it  had  been  harsh 
and  aggressive  but  now  it  was  soft,  crushed  and 
weak. 

As  the  carriage  drove  into  the  yard  the  woman 
of  the  frail  voice  again  addressed  the  man,  "Oh,  dear, 
what  can  be  the  matter?  One  thing  she  always  did 
and  that  was  to  keep  her  word.  She  said  she  would 
come  for  sickness  when  she  left  and  when  she  knew 
I  was  sick  she  wrote  she  would  come  and  on  that 
boat,  and  now  she  isn't  here.  Oh,  I  have  suffered  so 
much  it  seems  as  if  I  could  not  stand  more." 

The  girl  in  the  chair  in  the  kitchen  arose,  trem- 
bling. The  pallor  on  her  face  continued.  The  man 
alighted  from  the  carriage  and  assisted  the  frail 
woman  to  the  ground.  She  was  woefully  weak  and 
emaciated  and,  from  her  rugged  frame,  evidently  the 
wreck  of  her  former  self. 

She  walked  to  the  step,  ascended  it  to  the  kitchen 
threshold,  opened  the  door,  looked  within  and  in- 
stantly put  her  hand  to  her  heart.  There  was  a  deep 
indrawing  of  breath  and  she  then  exclaimed  in  tones 
that  can  never  be  reproduced:  "Dunora!  !  !" 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THE    GREAT    PRESENCE 

DUNORA'S  eyes  slowly  grew  wider  than  their 
usual  wideness.  She  could  hardly  believe  it. 
Was  it  true?  Was  that  emaciated  woman  stand- 
ing there  really  she?  It  surely  was,  and  in  verifica- 
tion of  it  Dunora  exclaimed,  "Mother !"  And  the 
elder  woman's  wealth  of  feeling,  pent  up  for  the  years 
of  drought,  overcame  her  broken  down  resistance 
and,  at  last,  the  greater  sentiment  prevailed.  She 
swept  across  the  floor  to  the  girl  by  the  chair,  threw 
her  arms  around  Dunora  and  pressed  her  to  her 
breast.  And  the  floodgates  burst.  It  was  she  whom, 
at  last,  the  great  sentiment  had  conquered. 

In  every  life,  without  exception,  there  comes  that 
period  when  the  glaring  attractions  of  lurid  earth 
lose  the  sham  attraction  they  once  held  and  when 
the  eternal  truths  come  home  to  the  inner  heart. 
"Truth  crushed  to  earth  shall  rise  again."  It  is  usu- 
ally in  the  evening  of  a  long  life  that  the  sombre 
calm  precedes  the  Great  Change,  for  it  is  a  great 
change  even  though  some  say  it  is  but  the  passing 
from  one  room  into  another.  No  mariner  has  ever 
brought  back  a  report  from  that  unseen  haven  and 
no  earth  born  eye  has  ever  measured  its  eternal  pano- 
rama. Nature  is  kind  when  it  provides  a  hush  just 
preceding  the  ushering  into  the  New  Day. 

151 


152      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Dunora  had  left  her  adopted  mother  three  years 
before  in  the  best  of  health,  stout,  aggressive,  robust. 
Now  she  was  little  more  than  a  living  skeleton  with 
hardly  strength  enough  to  stand  alone.  The  most 
careless  of  observers  would  have  seen  that  some 
great  worry  had  brought  her  low  and  that  the  Dark 
Angel  had  singled  out  the  hilltop  home  in  Gardiner, 
Maine,  for  a  visit.  And  then  one  of  those  rare  oc- 
casions would  come  in  which  the  front  door  of  that 
home  would  be  opened  and  one  would  emerge  for  the 
last  time. 

As  Dunora  had  gazed  at  her  only-known  mother 
standing  there  framed  in  the  door  she  had  instantly 
realized  the  truth  and  immediately  the  two  hearts 
met.  That  one  appearance  of  her  mother,  that  piti- 
ful testimony  to  her  suffering  broke  down  all  re- 
serve and  the  bitterness  of  the  past  in  Dunora's 
heart  for  in  that  weak  figure  standing  there  she 
read  the  one  great  word  "R-e-p-e-n-t-a-n-c-e." 

"Repentance,"  the  third  best  attribute  in  our 
characters.  The  greatest  is  love ;  the  next  greatest 
is  an  axiom  of  love  and  is  truth  and  the  third  best  is 
regret  for  not  acting  in  a  truthful  and  loving  man- 
ner and  that  attribute  is  the  attribute  of  repentance. 
Repentance  is  the  forerunner  of  improvement  and 
the  first  step  which  the  Almighty  requires  for  re- 
birth is  repentance.  Without  it  there  is  no  progress 
possible.  A  misstep  which  is  not  followed  by  re- 
pentance is  surely  followed  by  a  repetition  of  the 
misstep  and,  as  the  world  is  organized  on  infallible 
rules  which  bring  disaster  if  not  followed,  missteps 
surely  spell  disaster.  How  long  we  take  to  learn 
that  lesson,  that  like  breeds  like;  that  hate  breeds 
hate  and  the  breeding  of  hate  means  the  birth  of 


THE  GREAT  PRESENCE      158 

death — that  love  breeds  love  and  the  breeding  of  love 
means  the  birth  of  life. 

When  Dunora  had  left  her  Gardiner  home  three 
years  before  she  had,  unknowingly,  carried  her 
mother's  heart  with  her.  As  the  door  closed  with 
its  memorable  crash  behind  the  world  entering  Dun- 
ora with  that  crash  had  broken  some  band  in  Mrs. 
Whitney's  heart.  Foolish,  foolish  pride  had  been 
the  Satan  produced  barrier  which  prevented  Mrs. 
Whitney  from  rising  at  once  and  calling  to  the  poor 
girl  going  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  by  the  highland 
pasture. 

When  the  shades  of  that  first  night  fell  with 
Dunora  out  somewhere  in  the  cold  world  alone  Mrs. 
Whitney  suffered  torments.  Not  till  then  did  she 
know  how  dear  Dunora  really  was  to  her  heart,  but 
every  hour  of  that  night  she  lay  awake  and  prayed 
and  prayed  to  her  God  that  He  would  forgive  her 
and  put  His  protecting  arm  under  the  form  of  the 
lone  lassie.  And  He,  who  seeth  all  things,  answered 
that  prayer. 

Let  those  to  whom  the  words  of  "Oh,  Where  is 
My  Wandering  Boy  To-night,"  come  home,  try  to 
realize  Mrs.  Whitney's  feelings  as  she  came  at  last 
to  a  knowledge  of  her  own  shortcomings  and  that 
even  she  with  all  her  unwise  bitter  feelings  could  not 
fail  to  fall  in  love  with  the  lovable  Dunora  and  that 
she  had  done  so.  Try  to  think  of  the  torture  which 
that  at  last  awakened  woman  had  endured  when  she 
knew  that  her  harshness  and  that  of  her  husband 
had  driven  from  the  protection  of  home  the  daughter 
of  her  love. 

With  all  the  vehemence  with  which  she  had  hated 
and  abused  Dunora  she  then  came  to  love  her.  Day 


154      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

after  day  went  by  and  no  word  came  from  the  lass 
who  had  gone  over  the  brow  of  the  hill  by  the  high- 
land pasture.  Night  after  night  drew  on  in  their 
repeating  blacknesses  and  hour  after  hour  wore  on 
in  their  interminable  horror.  Retribution !  R-E-T- 
R-I-B-U-T-I-ON !  !  !  Retribution!  Retribution! 
Retribution!  Retribution!  rang  in  her  repentant 
ears.  In  her  agony  she  again  and  again  cried  to 
God  for  mercy,  but  R-e-t-r-i-b-u-t-i-o-n !  rang  in  her 
ears  from  the  otherwise  unanswering  walls.  No  mat- 
ter how  much  we  repent  an  unlovely  act  we  will  not 
escape  retribution.  No  matter  how  soon  or  how 
much  hate  turns  to  love  retribution  for  hate  will 
surely  follow. 

Her  husband,  not  so  reformed  as  herself,  tried 
to  influence  her  to  forget  her  newly  realized  love; 
he  scoffed  at  her,  told  her  she  was  giving  herself 
up  to  foolishness,  advised  her  to  bury  her  thoughts 
in  her  work  and  turn  to  anything  but  love  and  re- 
gret. 

But  the  unfeeling  words  fell  upon  unhearing  ears 
and  her  spoken  word  was  all  of  Dunora  and  longing 
to  have  her  return  to  the  embraces  that  would  then 
take  the  place  of  the  chastisements.  Day  by  day, 
as  the  hourly  agony  drew  out  into  terrible  lengths, 
Mrs.  Whitney  began  to  slowly  fail  and  fade.  Her 
weight  had  been  excessive  on  the  day  on  which 
Dunora  had  crossed  the  threshold  but  it  began  to 
lessen,  lessen,  lessen.  Her  husband  saw  her  fade 
away  before  his  eyes  and  at  last  even  he  grew 
alarmed.  It  began  to  affect  him.  Only  one  person 
in  all  the  world  did  he  really  love  according  to  his 
ability  and  that  person  was  Mrs.  Whitney.  He  was 
more  dependent  on  her  than  he  realized  and  then  a 


THE  GEE  AT  PRESENCE      155 

greater  realization  of  that  fact  came  to  him  than 
ever  before  in  his  life.  His  work  suffered  and 
Dunora's  absence  began  to  break  down  the  family. 

How  severely  Mrs.  Whitney  chided  herself  for 
not  appreciating  Dunora  in  those  years  when  she 
had  been  in  the  home.  As  great  as  had  been 
the  lack  of  appreciation  then,  so  great  was  the  full- 
ness of  appreciation  when  she  had  gone.  Love  is 
both  a  creating  and  a  destroying  force.  When  it  is 
rightly  exercised  it  is  creative,  when  it  is  abused  it 
is  destructive.  Of  all  the  forces  of  earth  love  is  the 
most  jealous  of  its  rights.  It  will  not  endure  the 
least  trifling  with  its  sacred  prerogatives.  Retribu- 
tion and  remorse  are  its  two  destructive  agents  and 
they  destroy  utterly  unless  fullhearted  repentance 
comes  and  they  sometimes  destroy  even  then. 

So  love  realized  too  late  because  previously 
crushed  out  by  selfishness  required  a  fearful  retribu- 
tion of  Mrs.  Whitney.  It  required  the  most  fearful 
penalty  it  could  command.  It  required  her  life  it- 
self. And  because  of  her  waning  strength  and  the 
felt  approach  of  the  Dark  Messenger,  Dunora  had 
been  sent  for  because  they  knew  she  would  keep  her 
promise. 

But,  oh!  the  realization  of  that  meeting.  The 
breaking  down  of  barriers  and  the  birth  of  visible 
love.  As  the  older  woman  swept  the  younger  into 
her  arms  both  burst  into  tears.  Each  put  her 
head  on  the  other's  breast.  Dunora's  choked  ut- 
terance, reiterated,  "Mother!  Mother!"  and  Mrs. 
Whitney  voiced  her  feelings  in  repeated  utterances  of 
"Dunora !"  "Dunora !" 

After  long  years  of  a  crushed  girlhood,  beginning 
when  Mrs.  Whitney  had  repulsed  Dunora's  infant 


156      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

offer  of  love,  Dunora  at  last,  in  that  one  look  at  the 
pitiful  figure  of  the  skeleton  of  her  former  robust 
mother,  knew  love  of  her.  That  sight  and  the  tale 
it  told  brought  forgiveness  for  all  the  bitter  years 
that  had  gone  before  and  Mrs.  Whitney  knew  it. 
Greatly  had  Mrs.  Whitney  sinned,  greatly  she  had 
paid  for  her  sin  and  let  it  be  added  that  any  who 
contemplate  sinning  thus  will  as  surely  pay  the 
penalty. 

The  two  parties,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Whitney  for  one 
and  Dunora  for  the  other,  had  missed  each  other 
because  Dunora  came  up  one  road  from  the  steam- 
boat dock  while  the  Whitneys  went  down  another. 
For  two  weeks  Dunora  remained  at  the  Gardiner 
home  and  they  were  two  weeks  of  love  and  care  for 
her  mother.  The  two  were  inseparable  and  the  poor 
weak  mother  tried  to  make  up  for  the  years  of  bit- 
terness. Dunora  and  she  slept  together  and  it  was 
heart-rending  to  see  the  endeavors  of  Mrs.  Whitney 
to  avoid  any  unnecessary  efforts  on  Dunora's  part. 

She  would  lie  awake  and  Dunora  would  discover 
that  her  sleep  was  sham.  "Mother,  dear,  why  aren't 
you  sleeping?"  "Oh,  Dunora,  I  was  afraid  you  would 
think  I  might  die  in  your  arms."  "Mother,  if  you 
ever  say  that  again  I  will  just  lay  you  across  my 
knee  and  spank  you.  You  know  I  can  do  it  too." 
And  she  smiled  a  wan  smile  as  she  remembered  the 
woman  who  was  three  years  before  and  the  woman 
who  was  now.  The  woman  who  was  three  years  be- 
fore weighed  over  one  hundred  pounds  more  than 
the  woman  who  was  now.  Such  had  been  her  suf- 
fering. 

"You  know,  mother,  you  are  so  small  now  that  I 
can  make  you  mind  me  and  you  must  do  so.  Now 


THE  GREAT  PRESENCE      157 

you  mind  me  and  go  to  sleep."  And  the  delighted 
Mrs.  Whitney  smiled  and  slept. 

Each  day  was  a  blessing  to  them  both.  Each  day 
was  but  a  constant  endeavor  for  either  one  or  the 
other  to  try  to  outdo  the  other  in  deeds  of  kindness 
and  little  acts  of  consideration.  It  was  a  veritable 
love  feast  which  feverishly  attempted  to  make  up 
for  the  bygone  years  of  drought.  More  than  once 
Mrs.  Whitney  said,  "Oh,  Dunora,  I  do  not  see  why 
I  never  realized  what  a  dear  daughter  I  had  with 
me  when  you  were  here.  I  cannot  understand  what 
blinded  my  eyes  to  what  a  dear  daughter  you  were. 
How  you  could  have  lived  so  long  with  me  and  I 
never  realizing  your  worth  is  hard  to  understand. 
The  way  I  have  suffered  in  your  absence  is  surely 
proof  to  you  of  how  I  have  come  to  know  you  as  you 
are.  Oh,  Dunora,  if  I  only  could  have  loved  you  in 
the  past  as  I  do  now  I  would  have  been  such  a  happy 
woman  and  you  would  have  been  a  happy  girl.  And 
oh,  how  much  better  I  would  have  treated  you.  Every 
blow  I  ever  struck  you  when  I  whipped  you  is  now  a 
constant  blow  at  my  heart.  Every  dainty  I  gave 
to  my  son  and  not  to  you  only  creates  in  me  now 
a  never  satisfied  desire.  I  am  being  dearly  paid  for 
every  wrong  I  ever  did  you.  Oh,  that  I  never  had 
needed  the  pay!  The  sight  of  you  now  and  the 
sound  of  your  voice  is  just  giving  me  new  life  and 
strength.  Oh,  Dunora,  I  love  you  so  now  that  it 
makes  up  for  all  the  lack  of  love  before." 

The  two  weeks  which  Dunora  was  to  stay  before 
she  went  back  to  get  Irene  were  golden  in  the  ex- 
treme to  the  girl  who  had  at  last  found  love  where 
she  had  for  years  looked  for  it  in  vain.  Had  she 
found  it  before,  her  whole  life's  history  would  have 


158      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

been  changed.  But  now  she  knew  the  necessity  of 
her  being  near  her  mother  who  was  so  desperately 
ill.  In  order  to  stay  longer  she  had  to  go  to  get 
Irene,  and  so  at  the  end  of  the  two  weeks  she  pre- 
pared to  take  the  boat  to  Massachusetts  and  her 
child. 

As  the  time  of  parting  drew  near  Mrs.  Whitney 
would  not  let  Dunora  out  of  her  sight.  She  hung 
on  her  every  word,  inflection  and  gesture  and  kissed 
her  and  kissed  her  and  again  kissed  her  at  the  door, 
that  same  door  out  of  which  the  poor  girl  had  gone 
under  such  different  circumstances  three  years  be- 
fore. "I'll  be  back  in  just  a  very  few  days,  mother, 
dear,  so  don't  worry  for  soon  I'll  be  coming  up  this 
hill  again  and  I'll  come  to  bring  you  joy.  And, 
mother,  know  that  your  Dunora  loves  you  deeply 
and  forgives  you  for  anything  you  may  have  done. 
I  forgive  you  freely  because  you  are  sorry  and  above 
all  because  you  love  me  at  last.  Oh,  mother,  if  you 
only  had  loved  me  before !" 

As  Dunora  went  over  the  brow  of  Iron  Mine 
Hill  Mrs.  Whitney  stood  in  the  door  waving  her 
hand.  When  her  hand  fell  to  her  side  from  the  wav- 
ing she  instantly  placed  it  to  her  heart  and  reeled. 
Her  husband  caught  her  in  his  arms.  The  look  on 
her  face  alarmed  him  and  he  sent  at  once  for  the 
doctor,  but  the  doctor  was  not  needed  for  the  serv- 
ices of  the  Great  Physician  were  all  that  were  given 
at  that  hour.  Gently  they  put  her  on  her  bed  and 
she  cried  for  "Dunora !  Dunora !"  The  case  was 
desperate,  and,  as  soon  as  it  was  so  realized,  a  mes- 
senger was  hurried  after  the  Boston  bound  girl  to 
see  if  by  any  chance  the  departure  of  the  boat  had 
been  delayed.  But  it  had  sailed  and  the  messenger 


THE  GREAT  PRESENCE      159 

returned,  but  not  before  another  messenger  had 
rapped  at  the  door,  the  messenger  of  death.  Worn 
down  by  the  three  years  of  retribution  and  repent- 
ance the  dear  woman  could  not  endure  even  the  tem- 
porary absence  of  Dunora  and  so  Mrs.  Whitney 
never  saw  Dunora  reascend  by  the  highland  pasture 
for  when  Dunora  returned  Mrs.  Whitney  had  been 
ushered  into  the  Great  Presence. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

THE    HOUSE    OF    SILENCE 

T  TNAWARE  of  the  tragedy  which  had  taken 
vJ  place  in  the  home  by  the  highland  pasture, 
Dunora  sailed  down  the  blue  and  winding  Kennebec 
with  her  thoughts  centered  about  the  mother  whom 
at  last  she  loved.  And  above  the  pulsing  steamer 
on  which  the  young  mother  was  speeding,  the  bald 
eagle  soared,  the  king  of  birds,  in  a  setting  of  ma- 
jestic scenery. 

Unblessed  by  love  before  and  stirred  to  her 
depths  by  its  fires  Mrs.  Whitney  had  been  unable 
to  endure  even  a  short  separation  from  the  object 
of  her  love.  And  the  angel  of  death  had  taken  that 
moment  of  lowest  vitality  in  which  to  overwhelm  the 
flickering  spark  of  life. 

Mrs.  Whitney  had  lived  a  life  in  accordance  with 
her  belief  in  God.  Her  God  was  expressed  in  terms 
as  told  to  Dunora  in  the  days  gone  by  when  the  las- 
sie had  been  told  that  she  was  born  to  damnation 
and  foreordained  to  torment  because  not  of  her 
foster  mother's  cruel  belief. 

Apparently  the  Almighty  had  used  Dunora  as  the 
means  of  awakening  in  Mrs.  Whitney  a  knowledge 
that  God  is  really  love.  And  the  poor  woman  had 
become  a  martyr  to  that  knowledge. 

When  they  had  placed  the  emaciated  form  of  what 
160 


THE  HOUSE  OF  SILENCE    161 

had  once  been  the  robust  Mrs.  Whitney  in  the  bed 
from  which  she  would  never  arise  alive,  the  family 
gathered  around  her  realized  that  her  earthly  career 
was  at  an  end.  She  had  no  illness  of  the  body.  For 
three  years  she  had  been  sick  with  no  illness  phy- 
sicians could  diagnose  and  beside  which  the  ablest 
practitioner  would  have  sat  with  folded,  baffled 
hands.  It  was  a  disease  of  the  heart's  holy  of  holies 
which  only  one  medicine  would  reach,  and  that  medi- 
cine was  in  human  form  and  was  named  Dunora. 
And  Dunora  even  for  those  few  days,  was  far  away 
from  the  bonnie  highland  pasture  and  the  wayside 
home  where  love  dwelt. 

In  those  sombre  seasons  of  life  when  only  the 
eternal  verities  have  any  weight  there  is  brought  to 
our  reasoning,  if  unselfish,  the  knowledge  that  if  a 
person  has  lived  up  to  the  light  that  has  been  given 
them,  even  though  that  light  is  much  inferior  to  the 
light  given  others,  the  person  so  living  will  in  no 
wise  lose  their  reward.  Many  a  saint  has  gone  to 
the  eternal  crown  in  the  Dark  Ages  when  Bibles 
were  possessed  by  but  few  and  the  requirements  of 
saintship  unknown.  But  to  those  to  whom  the  re- 
quirements have  been  made  known  that  much  of  ful- 
fillment is  required.  And  to  those  thus  trying,  even 
though  the  person  led  may  not  know  it,  the  words 
of  the  enthralling  hymn  are  nevertheless  true — 

"He  leadeth  me,  oh  blessed  thought, 
Oh  words  with  heavenly  comfort  fraught, 
By  waters  still,  o'er  troubled  sea, 
Still  'tis  God's  hand  that  leadeth  me." 

The  dear  woman  tossed  on  her  bed.     She  moaned 
"Dunora!    Dunora!"       The    tearful    and    helpless 


162     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

watchers  beheld  the  scene  in  dire  distress  because  of 
their  very  helplessness.  Husband  and  son,  the  lat- 
ter owing  his  very  life  to  the  mother  before  him, 
were  agonized,  but  the  dear  woman  on  the  bed  was 
not  so.  Again  she  was  with  the  daughter  she  loved. 
She  turned  over  in  bed  and  folded  her  arms  about 
the  imaginary  Dunora.  And  speech  clear,  distinct 
and  sweet  came  to  her.  "Yes,  dear,"  she  said, 
"mother  knows  you  are  afraid  to  go  out  in  the  pas- 
ture to  get  the  cow.  It  is  dark — dark,  but  there's 
nothing  to  fear.  Mother-will-go-for-you."  And  then 
came  a  pause.  Every  head  in  that  room  of  those 
kneeling  beside  the  martyr's  bed  was  bowed  in  awe, 
for  they  knew  they  were  in  the  very  presence  of  the 
Great  King,  who  with  His  greatness,  is  the  tenderest 
of  all. 

The  stricken  woman  rose  to  a  sitting  posture. 
She  threw  her  arais  out  in  a  rhapsody  of  joy.  The 
furrows  of  care  and  hard  work  fled  from  her  brow. 
"Oh,  Dunora,"  she  exclaimed,  "the  pasture  isn't 
dark.  It  is  all  light — and  white — and  beautiful — 
beautiful!  !  !"  and  with  a  great  sigh  of  infinite  re- 
lief, the  realization  of  great  joy  and  the  entering 
into  perfect  rest  the  dear  woman  fell  back  upon  the 
pillows  and — overhead  there  was  the  unheard  rush- 
ing of  unseen  wings. 

So  went  Dunora's  mother  and  it  cannot  be  said 
that  she  went  to  other  than  victory.  Even  at  that 
hour  there  was  a  leading. 

"And  when  my  task  on  earth  is  done, 
When  by  Thy  grace  the  victory's  won, 
E'en  death's  cold  wave  I  will  not  flee, 
Since  God  through  Jordan  leadeth  me." 


THE  HOUSE  OF  SILENCE     163 

A  day  after  Dunora  arrived  in  Boston  came  the 
letter  bearing  the  news.  In  the  parlor  in  Gardiner 
lay  the  mortal  remains  of  Mrs.  Whitney  silently 
awaiting  the  return  of  Dunora  and  that  return  was 
made  by  the  grief  stricken  girl  as  fast  as  the  next 
train  could  carry  her.  She  hired  a  carriage  at  the 
station  and  hurried  the  driver  up  Iron  Mine  Hill 
faster  than  he  had  ever  driven  before. 

When  she  reached  the  house  she  entered  the  kitchen 
door  and,  speaking  in  low  tones  to  those  she 
saw  within,  passed  at  once  to  the  parlor  where  the 
silent  form  lay.  Upon  what  happened  within  that 
room  the  mantle  of  sacredness  draws  a  shielding  cur- 
tain. The  thoughts  that  went  through  the  girl's 
brain  would  have  made  very  interesting  insight  into 
the  inner  recesses  of  the  human  soul  under  conditions 
very  much  unlike  those  ever  met  with  in  ordinary 
life.  After  all  the  years  of  her  girlhood  spent  in 
a  loveless  atmosphere  she  had  at  last  seen  love  arise 
triumphant  in  the  heart  which  had  for  years  denied 
it  admittance.  She  had  seen  that  love  not  only  be- 
come an  ordinary  love  but  an  overwhelming  love, 
such  a  love  that  the  absence  of  the  object  of  its 
adoration  had  brought  her  mother  down  from  com- 
plete health  to  the  verge  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow 
and  then,  when  Dunora  was  but  temporarily  ab- 
sent, had  seen  her  enter  that  Port  from  which  no 
mariner  returns. 

For  a  second  time  Dunora  had  become  motherless 
and  in  a  year  she  was  again  to  become  an  orphan 
for  Mr.  Whitney  survived  but  that  time.  Consid- 
ered from  Dunora's  standpoint  at  what  worse  time 
could  Mrs.  Whitney  have  passed  away?  Had  she 
lived  with  her  love  for  Dunora  what  a  host  of  sun- 


164     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

beams  she  could  have  put  into  the  girl's  barren  life. 

The  death  of  her  foster  mother  meant  far  more  to 
Dunora  than  appeared  on  the  surface.  It  robbed 
her  of  her  right,  of  her  inborn  right,  the  right  of 
every  boy  and  every  girl  to  a  loving  mother.  And, 
deeper  yet,  it  may  be  asked  who  causes  this  persis- 
tent robbing  of  parents  from  children?  The  same 
one  who  deceived  Eve  in  the  Garden  of  Eden  when 
he  said  unto  her  "Ye  shall  not  surely  die."  The 
whole  groaning  creation,  waiting  for  deliverance 
from  the  effects  of  that  lie,  only  too  sadly  testifies 
to  the  truth  that  Jehovah  told  and  to  the  lie  with 
which  "the  dragon,  that  old  serpent,  which  is  the 
Devil,  and  Satan"  deceived  the  mother  of  mankind 
and,  through  her,  the  world. 

All  these  six  thousand  years  of  the  Devil's  deceit 
has  the  penalty  of  death,  the  penalty  of  that  lie,  been 
paid  and  the  deeper  meaning  which  Mrs.  Whitney's 
death  had  for  Dunora  was  that  Satan  was  her  own 
particular  enemy,  that  he  robbed  her  of  her  own 
dear  mother  and,  after  years  of  abuse  when  at  last 
her  foster  mother  was  reborn  by  love,  Satan,  at  the 
very  hour  when  Dunora  needed  her  foster  mother 
most,  robbed  the  girl  of  her  also. 

So  the  Adversary  of  all  good,  all  happiness,  all 
life,  in  his  usual  sneaking  and  dirty  manner,  went 
behind  the  back  of  this  innocent  sufferer  and  tore 
her  heart  strings  to  the  limit  of  endurance.  At  his 
foul  door  can  be  laid  every  evil  that  attacked  her, 
and  many  and  various  were  the  devices  by  which 
the  fiend  endeavored  to  encompass  her  downfall,  but 
the  devil  far  from  knows  all  things,  and  he  made  a 
great  piece  of  mis  judgment  when  he  put  his  atten- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  SILENCE    165 

tion  on  Dunora,  for  he  tried  to  encompass  the  down- 
fall of 

One  Wonderful  Rose 

and  he  absolutely  failed. 

If  he  failed  with  her  he  can  fail  with  others.  So 
take  courage,  tempted  ones:  you  can  win  and  not 
only  win  but  be  a  hero  and  the  winner  of  a  crown 
from  the  hands  of  Him  who  upheld  Dunora. 

"  'Blessed  is  he  that  overcometh,' 

On  the  sacred  page  is  read, 
For  the  crown  of  life  He  giveth 

That  shall  ransom  from  the  dead. 
And  the  Lord  of  Life  then  trained  her 

In  the  rough  way  of  the  cross, 
For  He  knew  that  early  pleasures 

Meant,  indeed,  the  crown's  sure  loss." 

Dunora,  after  the  funeral  of  her  loved  mother  had 
taken  place  and  she  had  seen  the  falling  of  the  first 
night  with  now  her  two  mothers  beneath  the  sod, 
did  not  care  to  remain  long  in  the  Gardiner  home 
now  additionally  associated  with  the  loved  and  lost 
mother  of  her  girlhood  days.  Conversation  was  not 
engaged  in  much  above  the  lowest  tones  in  the  Whit- 
ney home  after  the  funeral,  and,  for  the  day  or  so  in 
which  Dunora  remained  to  assist  in  whatever  way 
she  could  with  the  stricken  son  and  husband,  she 
was  as  much  alone  as  possible. 

The  highland  pasture  and  the  redolent  woods, 
the  majestic  hills  and  rolling  fields  called  her  and 
who  can  say  that  additional  and  sterling  anchor- 


166      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

ages  to  her  already  staunch  and  true  character  were 
not  laid  in  those  rambles  alone  with  her  thoughts. 

Every  room  in  the  old  home  spoke  the  name  of 
her  departed  mother;  every  board  in  the  floor  of 
every  room  cried  out  her  name.  Everywhere  were 
the  signs  of  her  presence  and  the  mark  of  the  work 
of  her  dear  hands.  The  kitchen,  where  for  years 
as  a  faithful  wife  she  had  prepared  the  meals  to 
sustain  her  husband  in  his  work  but  brought  back 
her  form.  The  bedroom  where  she  slept,  the  sit- 
ting room  where  she  sewed,  the  dining  room  with 
floor  worn  by  her  feet  all  spoke  of  her. 

But  far  above  the  speaking  of  those  inanimate 
walls  was  the  not-to-be-denied  declaration  of  the 
last  three  years  of  her  earthly  life.  Those  three 
years  of  contrition  crowned  the  years  of  storm 
which  preceded  with  a  halo  of  glory.  The  shadows 
of  her  stormy  life  fled  away  into  what  is  always  the 
fairest  time  of  day,  whether  it  be  the  solar  day  or 
the  day  of  life,  and  that  is  the  sunset.  Then  the 
Divine  Architect  in  voiceless  words  speaks  of  the 
majesty  of  His  love  daily.  As  the  sun  proceeds  on 
his  western  journey  to  light  other  lands,  God  paints 
in  the  evening  sky  a  glorious,  never  repeating  picture 
which  staggers  human  imagination  and  baffles  all 
human  effort  to  in  any  way  effectively  repeat  or 
mimic.  And  invariably  the  rays  of  light  in  the  sun- 
set sky  shoot  upward  in  the  form  of  the  diverging 
radii  of  a  celestial  crown. 

So  with  Mrs.  Whitney,  her  martyr's  crown  became 
a  crown  of  glory  lighted  by  all  the  lights  and  colors 
which  glow  around  the  sunset  of  a  life  of  love. 
Surely,  if  Dunora  could  forgive,  we  should.  And 
let  us  not  forget  that  grave  on  the  hilltop  in  Gar- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  SILENCE    167 

diner  in  the  State  of  Maine  where  Dunora's  dear 
mother  sleeps  awaiting  the  glad  morning  of  earth's 
new  birth  when  He  who  once  stood  at  the  grave  of 
the  dead  Lazarus  and  gave  life  to  his  lifeless  clay, 
shall  again,  but  in  far  louder  tones,  ring  forth  the 
glad  summons  to  the  sleeping  ones  of  earth: 
"Come  forth !" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

THE   WEARY   ROAD    CONTINUED 

AS  Dunora  slept  in  that  desolate  room  in  Lynn 
following  the  eating  of  the  two  slices  of  bread 
and  the  part  of  a  doughnut,  Olive  sat  trying  to 
devise  means  of  easing  the  sad  news  of  an  empty 
larder  and  moneyless  purse  as  well  as  lost  situa- 
tions. 

Dunora  shortly  awoke.  She  was  sadly  in  need 
of  food  and  medical  attendance,  but  where  were  they 
to  come  from.  "Oh,  Olive,"  she  said,  "I  am  so  weak. 
Am  I  sick?"  "Well,  you  have  been  having  quite  a 
sleep,  and  that  will  make  you  feel  weak,  anyway. 
After  people  sleep  a  long  time  they  feel  weak  before 

they "  and  here   Olive   caught   herself   just   in 

time  for  she  was  going  to  say,  "before  they  eat." 
So  she  added,  "before  they  sleep  a  little  more." 
"Oh !"  exclaimed  Dunora,  "have  I  got  to  sleep  more 
to  feel  stronger?  I  feel  too  weak  to  sleep  or  to  lie 
awake,  either.  I  don't  know  what  to  do."  There 
was  a  momentary  pause  in  her  speech,  then  she 
added  the  words  Olive  dreaded  to  hear.  "But  I  am 
so  hungry." 

Hunger  unsatisfied, — the  incentive  to  crime  or  the 
foundation  to  that  heroic  struggle  without  which 
true  manhood  or  womanhood  cannot  exist.  To  sat- 
isfy hunger  or  gluttony  mankind  does  all  its  crime. 

168 


WEARY  ROAD  CONTINUED  169 

A  universally  proportionately  fed  world  would  be 
a  world  of  peace  and  good  will  to  men. 

Olive  made  no  response  to  Dunora's  half  wail  of 
hunger.  She  hoped  she  might  not  hear  it  repeated, 
but  her  hope  was  dashed  to  the  ground,  for  right  on 
the  heels  of  Dunora's  first  declaration  came  its  sis- 
ter: "Olive,  I  am  so  hungry!" 

Olive  had  to  reply.  "I  haven't  much  here  just 
now,  dearie.  If  you  will  please  eat  just  what  I  give 
you  we  will  get  more  soon,  and  I  think  that  not 
eating  much  is  best  for  you  just  now.  I'll  give  you 
some  more  good  bread  in  thick  slices,  and  you  know 
bread  is  called  the  staff  of  life."  She  cut  off  more 
from  the  loaf  and  Dunora  ate  it  with  the  sauce  of 
hunger.  Then  came  the  recollection  of  the  past 
act  on  the  piazza  of  Irene's  home. 

A  shade  of  varied  feeling  went  over  Dunora's 
countenance  as  that  recollection  came  to  her  and 
she  grew  pale.  "Olive,"  she  called,  "where  is  Irene?" 
Poor  Olive  dreaded  every  word  that  Dunora  spoke. 
She  did  not  know  what  would  come  next,  and  how 
to  answer  was  a  problem.  When  this  question  came 
she  knew  how  to  answer  at  once,  however.  She  ran 
at  once  to  the  bed  on  which  Dunora  lay. 

Falling  on  her  knees  by  the  bedside  Olive  took 
Dunora's  poor  face  in  her  hands  and  kissed  her 
forehead  repeatedly.  "Poor  little  girlie,"  she  said, 
"I  didn't  want  you  to  ask  me  that  question.  I 
hoped  you  would  think  of  something  else.  But  I 
shall  not  try  to  tell  anything  but  truth,  and  that  is 
best  for  you  to  hear.  I  do  not  know  where  she  is, 
but  I  know  surely  that  she  is  safe.  No  harm  will 
come  to  her,  dear,  and  so  you  just  be  a  heroine  and 
bite  your  lip  and  know  that  the  one  who  has  done 


170     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

this  cowardly  deed  will  be  paid  for  it  in  full  pay- 
ment and  that  for  every  coward's  act  he  has  done 
to  you  he  will  be  repaid  fourfold." 

"Give  me  my  clothes !"  demanded  Dunora.  Olive 
looked  astonished  at  the  girl  and  made  no  effort  to 
rise.  "Give  me  my  clothes !"  again  demanded 
Dunora.  Olive  did  so  as  Dunora  arose.  "What  are 
you  going  to  do?'*  queried  Olive.  Dunora  gave  her 
a  look  which  Olive  never  understood  because  she 
had  never  been  a  mother.  But  before  that  look  she 
quailed,  she  knew  not  why.  Before  that  look  she 
dared  not  speak. 

Dunora  arose  unsteadily  and  clothed  herself, 
Olive  assisting  her.  There  was  not  a  word  inter- 
changed between  them.  Dunora  had  a  look  of  de- 
termination on  her  face  which  disturbed  Olive.  Olive 
went  toward  the  door.  As  soon  as  Dunora  had  fully 
dressed  she  went  toward  the  door.  Olive  stood  in 
her  way  and  spread  her  arms  across  the  closed  exit. 
"Stand  aside!"  demanded  the  little  mother.  "Stand 
aside,  Olive!"  But  in  Olive  there  was  the  blood  of 
wisdom  also. 

She  looked  directly  into  Dunora's  flashing  eyes. 
"Dunora,  dear,"  she  said  sweetly,  "please  calm  your- 
self. You  know  I  will  do  anything  I  can  for  you, 
and  you  know  I  will  not  ask  you  to  do  anything 
I  do  not  know  is  for  your  interest.  Dunora,  don't 
go  through  this  door.  I  am  here.  I  am  your  friend. 
Outside  is  danger  for  you  now  and  no  good."  "But 
I  want  Irene;  I  want  Irene!"  cried  the  distracted 
girl.  "Dunora,  dear,  I  repeat  that  I  don't  know 
where  Irene  is,  but  I  know  she  is  all  right.  You. 
must  try  to  control  yourself.  This  inhuman  act 
will  do  no  good  to  the  one  who  did  it,  but  it  will 


WEARY  ROAD  CONTINUED  171 

end  in  much  greater  happiness  for  you.  But  be 
brave,  my  dear,  be  brave.  I've  known  you  long 
enough  to  know  that  you  have  it  in  you,  and  now 
show  it!" 

The  head  of  the  poor  Dunora  went  low.  "Oh, 
Olive,  how  can  I  be  brave  in  the  face  of  Irene's  being 
taken  away?  How  can  I  be  brave  when  all  my 
being  calls  out  for  her?  I  am  her  mother!  Is  there 
no  punishment  for  the  man  who  wins  the  confidence 
of  an  innocent  girl  only  to  break  her  heart?  Is 
it  she  who  is  to  bear  the  punishment  for  being  inno- 
cent ?  Is  innocence  a  crime  to  be  punished  ?" 

Olive  put  her  hands  on  Dunora's  shoulder.  "Go 
back  and  lie  down,  dear,"  she  said.  "We  must  think 
some  way  out  of  this.  We  can't  do  anything  now 
but  just  think  a  way  out."  She  hesitated  a  moment 
then  thought  that  by  giving  Dunora  something  else 
to  think  about  the  thought  of  Irene  would  be  pushed 
from  her  mind. 

"Dunora,  you  have  been  very  ill.  You  have  been 
in  that  bed — three  weeks !"  She  waited  to  see  the 
effect  of  her  words,  and  the  effect  was  what  she 
expected.  "Three  weeks !  Three  weeks  in  this  bed !" 
"Yes."  "I  have  been  in  this  bed  three  weeks  and 
have  known  nothing  about  it!"  "Yes,  dear."  Du- 
nora looked  aghast.  "Why,  Olive,  I  have  never 
doubted  you  before,  but  surely  you  must  be  mis- 
taken when  you  say  that  I  have  been  here  three 
weeks.  You  must  be  mistaken."  "Dunora,  I  wish 
it  was  true  that  I  was  mistaken,  but  it  is  only  too 
true.  You  had  suffered  so  that  the  cruel  blow  that 
was  struck  you  caused  you  to  lose  consciousness, 
and  you  have  been  unconscious  for  every  day  of  that 
three  weeks."  "Olive!"  was  all  she  could  exclaim. 


172     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

"So  you  see,  dear,"  and  here  she  came  to  the  sub- 
ject which  she  hoped  would  occupy  chief  place  in 
Dunora's  mind,  "we  have  both  lost  our  situations, 
for,  of  course,  they  couldn't  hold  them  open  for 
us  all  that  time."  "Why,  Olive,  why  did  you  lose 
your  situation?  You  didn't  need  to  do  it.  You 
could  have  worked.  You  were  not  sick."  "No,  I 
couldn't  work.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  left 
you?"  Dunora  smiled  wanly.  "No,  Olive;  I  know 
you  wouldn't  desert  me." 

"Well,  my  dear,  because  we  have  lost  our  situ- 
ations we  have  also  lost  most  of  our  money,  and 
that  is  why  I  gave  you  doughnuts  and  bread.  That's 
all  we  have."  Dunora  even  that  early  in  life  was 
developing  a  character  of  independence.  It  became 
a  buttress  of  her  salvation.  In  such  a  young  girl 
what  she  did  at  that  time  was  remarkable.  Most 
girls  would  have  been  prostrated  with  the  weight 
of  sorrow  which  Dunora  already  upheld,  to  say 
nothing  of  this  additional  burden,  but  Dunora  was 
not  of  that  kind.  She  got  right  out  of  bed. 

"Olive,  how  much  money  have  you  got?"  "Oh,  I 
have  some,"  was  the  reply,  for  she  intended  evasion, 
not  daring  to  tell  the  absolute  truth.  "Well  take 
one  cent  and  go  out  and  get  a  newspaper  and  we 
will  see  if  we  can  find  an  advertisement  we  can 
answer."  Olive  arose  and  went  out.  In  a  short 
time  she  returned  with  a  paper.  Together  they 
scanned  the  "Help  Wanted"  column. 

"Here  it  is !"  exclaimed  the  delighted  Dunora. 
Both  pair  of  eyes  glued  themselves  to  the  printing, 
and  both  pairs  of  eyes  saw  the  following:  "Wanted 
— a  seamstress  not  afraid  of  work.  Dressmaking 
will  be  taught  the  applicant  who  is  hired." 


WEARY  ROAD  CONTINUED  173 

"Hurrah!"  almost  shouted  Dunora.  "Here  we 
have  it!  Work,  hard  work.  I  must  have  it!  I 
must  have  it!  I  must  have  it  or  I'll  just  break! 
Now,  I'll  run  right  to  the  address  and  try  hard  to 
get  the  work."  She  went  toward  the  door,  but  Olive 
seized  her  coat  and  held  her  back.  "You  need 
something  more  to  eat  before  you  go,"  she  said.  "Oh, 
I  can't !  I  can't !"  cried  Dunora,  as  she  went  through 
the  door  and  hurried  down  to  the  street. 

In  passing  let  us  look  at  the  figure  of  the  girl  as 
she  went  down  the  stairs  and  emerged  onto  School 
Street.  Her  coat  was  the  epitome  of  neatness  and 
the  personification  of  economy.  What  would  have 
been  rags  on  another  were  most  carefully  sewed 
rags  in  Dunora's  clothes,  but  the  long  wear  on  the 
coat  could  not  be  concealed.  Her  shoes  were  so 
worn  that  the  holes  through  the  bottoms  of  each  sole 
were  covered  with  cardboard.  Her  other  clothes 
were  similarly  worn. 

Onto  Union  Street  and  toward  the  east  she 
turned  and  hastened  to  the  door  of  the  house,  the 
number  of  which  had  been  given  in  the  paper.  A 
very  pleasant  lady  opened  the  door  in  response  to 
Dunora's  ring.  "Please,  madam,  I  saw  in  the  paper 
that  you  wanted  a  seamstress  who  was  not  afraid  of 
work.  I  have  taken  lessons  in  dressmaking  and  I'm 
not  at  all  afraid  of  work,  and  I  do  need  money. 
Please,  may  I  have  the  position?" 

Over  the  face  of  the  good  lady  there  came  a  puz- 
zled and  then  a  pained  expression.  She  looked  at 
Dunora  kindly  and  saw  too  plainly  the  girl's  need. 
Then  she  spoke  words  which  evidently  pained  her. 
"My  dear,  just  a  moment  before  you  came  I  hired 
another  girl  for  the  position." 


174      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

No  money,  no  food,  no  work!  Dunora  turned 
sadly  from  the  door  without  a  word  and  slowly 
wended  her  unsteady  way  back  to  the  room  and 
Olive.  As  she  entered  Olive  knew  the  result  of  her 
trip  before  she  told  it,  but  she  said:  "Position's 
gone !"  Olive  was  not  blessed  with  beauty  of  face,  but 
she  was  with  beauty  of  character,  and  she  wouldn't 
know  defeat.  "Well,  dear,  we  didn't  look  at  all  the 
advertisements.  Let's  take  the  paper  and  look  for 
some  more  help  wanted."  So  they  took  up  the  paper 
and  looked  all  through  the  column.  There  was 
nothing  in  the  column  which  met  their  requirements. 
Olive  at  last  was  discouraged.  For  a  moment  she 
sat  in  dumb  despair. 

Suddenly  there  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the 
stairs,  and  a  knock  came  at  the  door.  Olive  opened 
it.  A  young  woman  stood  there.  "Does  the  young 
lady  who  applied  at  Mrs.  Randolph's  for  a  position 
as  seamstress  live  here?"  "Yes  indeed!"  exclaimed 
the  radiant  Olive,  delighted  she  knew  not  why.  Du- 
nora advanced  to  the  young  lady  and  said :  "I  am  the 
one  who  wanted  the  position."  The  stranger  smiled. 
"Mrs.  Randolph  sent  me  to  follow  you  and  I 
almost  lost  your  way.  She  wants  me  to  ask  you  to 
come  back  to  see  her."  "Do  you  know  why?"  Dunora 
asked.  "Yes,  I  know  why,  but  I  prefer  that  she 
should  tell  you." 

Together  they  went  down  the  stairs  and  onto  the 
street,  and  together  they  threaded  their  way  through 
the  idle  crowds  toward  the  quieter  street  on  which 
Mrs.  Randolph  lived.  The  usual  bums  ogled  them 
from  the  street  corners.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
house  they  were  ushered  within  by  the  good  lady, 
who  at  once  took  Dunora  into  the  parlor.  "My 


WEARY  ROAD  CONTINUED  175 

dear,"  she  said,  "I  took  a  liking  to  you  at  once  when 
you  came  here  a  short  time  ago.  I  told  you  the 
truth  when  I  said  that  I  had  hired  another  girl  just 
before  you  came,  but  I  have  discharged  her,  for  I 
want  you,  for  I  know  you  will  be  the  best  girl  for 
the  place.  Now,  my  dear,  I  am  going  to  hire  you, 
and  so  you  stay  right  here  and  go  to  work." 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad !    We  did  need  it."    This  latter 
was  spoken  before  she  thought. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

TRIALS 

NOW  the  first  thing  I'll  ask  you  to  do  for  me  is 
to  go  downtown  and  do  some  shopping  for  me. 
I'll  give  you  the  directions  and  the  money,  and  I 
am  sure  you  can  do  as  I  ask."  The  good  lady  then 
gave  her  twenty-five  dollars  in  cash  together  with 
the  directions,  and  Dunora  went  out  onto  the  street 
the  possessor  of  twenty-five  dollars  and  a  hunger 
developed  by  two  days'  diet  on  five  cents'  worth  of 
doughnuts. 

Oh,  if  she  had  only  known  what  Dunora  had  just 
passed  through  and  also  the  terrible  pangs  of 
hunger  that  gnawed  at  her  vitals  and  said  to  her 
repeatedly:  "Take  just  five  cents!  It's  worth  more 
than  that  to  do  this  errand.  Take  a  quarter,  for 
she'll  give  you  more  than  that  when  you  get  back, 
and  you  have  a  right  to  it  now.  You  are  starving 
and  self -preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature.  Just 
tell  her  the  truth,  tell  her  you  haven't  eaten  any- 
thing for  two  days  but  three  doughnuts."  She  held 
the  twenty-five  dollars  up  in  her  hand.  The  amount 
had  been  given  her  in  one  dollar  bills  and  it  looked 
a  mountain  of  money  to  that  country-bred  girl  not 
far  from  out  of  her  teens.  She  went  behind  a  build- 
ing and  then  counted  the  whole  twenty-five  bills,  one 
at  a  time — one — two — three — four — five — six — 

176 


TRIALS  177 

seven,  and  so  on  till  the  number  reached  twenty-one 
— twenty-two — twenty-three — twenty-four — twenty- 
five.  And  that  was  a  very  big  number  of  single 
units  for  her.  And  twenty-five  dollars  was  the 
largest  sum  of  money  she  had  held  in  her  hand  to 
that  time. 

"Oh,  be  sensible;  you're  starving.  Self-defence 
is  the  first  thing  to  consider.  Take  just  one  dollar, 
she'll  never  miss  one  dollar  out  of  all  that  pile. 
She  will  not  count  the  change,  perhaps,  anyway. 
Take  a  chance.  She  was  a  brute  to  send  you  down- 
town with  all  that  money  when  you  had  had  an 
empty  stomach.  You  have  a  right  to  it."  Then  as 
the  girl  still  held  the  money  close  the  Tempter  con- 
tinued. "Borrow  some.  Tell  her  how  hungry  you 
are  and  that  you'll  pay  back  the  money."  Ah,  how 
real  and  wrenching  these  temptations  were.  Then 
came  a  final  one.  "Take  the  whole  twenty-five  dol- 
lars and  hide  it  and  tell  her  that  you  lost  it."  So 
Satan  uses  his  wiles,  but  they  were  in  vain  against 
this  heroic  girl.  She  stood  these  tests  and  returned 
with  the  goods  desired  and  the  exact  change.  Mrs. 
Randolph  expressed  no  surprise  that  she  returned 
with  the  money  intact. 

Mrs.  Randolph  continued:  "Here  are  ten  cents 
which  you  spent  for  carfare."  Dunora  was  stupe- 
fied. It  was  three  days  till  pay  day  and  that  ten 
cents  represented  all  the  two  girls  would  have  till 
Saturday  night  for  food.  It  was  fairly  late  in  the 
day  when  this  occurred,  and  Dunora  made  no  com- 
ment, but  went  to  work  with  an  empty  stomach  and 
aching  heart. 

At  the  day's  close  Dunora  sallied  forth  on  her 
hungry  road.  She  reached  the  room  and  Olive  was 


178      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

awaiting  her.  "I  got  the  place,"  was  all  she  said 
at  first,  and  Olive  could  get  no  other  word  out  of 
her  till  she  was  ready  to  speak  further.  Then  she 
simply  put  the  ten  cents  on  the  bed  with  the  laconic 
remark:  "That  is  all  the  money  we  have  for  food 
till  Saturday  night."  Olive  grew  curious,  naturally. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  you  got  the  position 
and  then  have  so  little  money."  "The  lady  hired  me 
because  she  had  discharged  the  other  girl.  The  first 
thing  she  did  was  to  put  twenty-five  dollars  in  real 
bills  in  my  hand  and  sent  me  down  to  do  some  shop- 
ping for  her.  I  walked  to  save  carfare  because  I 
didn't  have  it,  and  when  I  got  back  she  gave  me  this 
ten  cents  which  she  supposed  I  had  spent  for  carfare. 
That  is  all  we  have  till  I  get  my  pay  Saturday 
night." 

"That  isn't  very  encouraging  in  the  food  line,  is 
it?"  "No,  it  isn't,  but  I  have  work,  and  that  is 
almost  everything.  We  only  have  to  wait  till  Sat- 
urday, and  then  we  can  at  least  get  a  good  meal." 
"Oh,  but  till  Saturday  night  what  shall  we  do?"  at 
length  wailed  Olive.  "We  will  make  what  we  can 
get  with  ten  cents  do,"  was  the  instant  reply.  "What 
can  we  get  with  it?"  "I  know,  but  there  is  no  use 
getting  any  till  morning.  We  will  have  to  go  to 
bed  without  anything  tonight,  but  we  can  eat  in  the 
morning."  Olive  at  once  said,  "We  have  something. 
I  have  one  slice  of  bread  which  I  have  hoarded.  Let's 
divide."  They  did,  and  then  went  to  bed,  each  with 
the  half  slice  of  bread  in  lieu  of  a  repast. 

In  the  morning  Dunora  took  Olive  by  the  hand 
and  together  they  went  to  a  bakery.  Dunora  bought 
five  cents  worth  of  raised  doughnuts,  which  appealed 
to  her  because  of  size.  The  two  girls  lived  on  these 


TRIALS  179 

doughnuts  for  a  day  and  a  half.  In  the  meantime 
Dunora  worked  all  day  at  sewing.  Friday  noon  the 
remaining  five  cents  were  spent  for  more  raised 
doughnuts,  and  these  were  all  they  ate  till  Dunora's 
salary  came  Saturday  afternoon.  As  she  had  only 
worked  half  a  week,  she  received  but  half  the  weekly 
salary,  three  dollars.  This  then  was  their  total 
sum  on  which  to  maintain  themselves  for  the  com- 
ing week  unless  something  unforeseen  happened,  and 
that  something  didn't  happen. 

That  very  Saturday,  however,  Olive  secured  work 
in  a  shoe  factory.  Nevertheless,  the  three  dollars 
had  to  suffice  till  pay  day  at  the  end  of  the  week. 
Suppose,  reader,  your  income  limited  to  three  dol- 
lars for  a  week,  which  money  you  divided  with  an- 
other and  out  of  your  dollar  and  a  half  provided 
every  need  of  life.  And  this,  too,  when  at  least  Olive 
knew  that  on  nearly  every  street  corner  lurked  a 
human  dog  who  would  provide  a  good  meal  for  the 
dog's  price. 

Behind  the  darkest  cloud  the  sun  shines,  and  it 
shone  behind  the  cloud  of  Dunora's  experiences  at 
that  time.  One  day  in  that  week  of  hunger  there 
came  a  letter  to  Dunora  in  an  unknown  handwriting. 
With  curious  fingers  she  opened  it  and  read  these 
words:  "EVERETT,  MASS., 

,  19— 

"Dear  Dunora — 

"You  may  never  have  heard  of  me,  but  I  have 
heard  of  you,  and  I  have  found  where  you  are.  I 
am  your  aunt,  and  I  am  lonely  and  I  want  you  to 
come  over  to  see  me. 

"Lovingly, 

"AUNT  JUNE." 


180     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Dunora  had  never  heard  of  her,  but  she  went  to 
see  her  that  evening  and  spent  ten  precious  cents  to 
get  there.  She  found  the  address  and  saw  that  it 
was  a  house  of  more  than  the  ordinary  pretence, 
and  also  one  that  was  of  the  more  expensive  kind. 
With  much  curiosity  she  rang  the  bell.  Who  has  not 
experienced  that  tremor  of  feeling  as  they  have  gone 
to  a  strange  house  in  answer  to  an  invitation  and 
have  rung  the  bell  and  waited  for  the  first  sound 
within?  Who  shall  it  be  who  comes  to  the  door? 
What  will  be  your  impression  and  what  will  be 
theirs  ? 

There  was  a  sound  within  and  soon  the  door 
opened  and  a  woman  stood  before  her,  small,  slight, 
not  easy  to  read.  "Is  this  Aunt  June?"  queried  the 
girl.  "Why,  Dunora,  I  hadn't  an  idea  you  would 
be  so  handsome!  Come  right  in!  I'm  just  as  glad 
to  see  you  as  I  can  be.  Why,  you  know  I  heard  of 
you  by  accident,  and  I  heard  you  were  in  trouble, 
and  I  said  to  myself  that  I  had  a  big  home  here 
and  lived  in  it  all  by  myself  and  it  would  be  a 
great  pleasure  to  me  to  have  a  young  girl  with  me, 
and  most  of  all,  you.  And  so  I  didn't  say  a  word  to 
any  one,  but  I  just  had  found  out  your  address  and 
I  wrote  you  the  letter  I  am  very  glad  you  received." 
And  she  went  on  in  her  torrent  of  words  with  hardly 
a  breath  between,  and  not  giving  Dunora  an  oppor- 
tunity to  make  any  remark  of  her  own.  "Are  you 
hungry?  Of  course  you  are.  How  foolish  of  me 
to  ask  that  question.  I  rather  felt  that  you  would 
come  to-night  in  answer  to  my  letter,  and  I  had  a 
hot  supper  all  prepared  for  you,  and  if  you'll  follow 
me  to  the  dining  room  we  will  eat." 

Here,  as  her  Aunt  arose  to  go  to  the  dining  room, 


TRIALS  181 

Dunora  had  her  first  chance  to  speak.  "Aunt  June," 
she  said,  "I  cannot  eat  with  you  unless  you  will  do 
something  else  for  me.  I  came  from  a  room  where 
I  have  a  room-mate,  Olive.  She  has  not  had  a  very 
good  time,  and  she  has  been  very,  very  good  to  me. 
She  is  hungry  and  hasn't  had  anything  to  eat  but 
a  couple  of  doughnuts  for  quite  a  time.  I  couldn't 
possibly  eat  and  let  her  go  hungry.  If  you  will  put 
up  for  her  a  dinner  just  like  the  one  you  put  up 
for  me  why  then  I'll  eat  mine." 

"Well,  you  are  a  generous  girl!'*  exclaimed  the 
aunt.  "Of  course  I  will."  "You  don't  call  that 
being  generous  do  you?  I  don't.  I  call  it  just  plain 
duty.  I'd  be  very,  very  bad  if  I  didn't  do  it.  Olive 
watched  by  my  bedside  for  three  whole  weeks  when  I 
didn't  know  a  thing.  She  shared  with  me  everything 
she  had;  she  gave  me  money  in  buying  food  when  I 
was  unconscious,  and  she  gave  me  good  advice  from 
her  very  heart,  and  I'd  be  the  most  ungrateful  per- 
son living  if  I  didn't  do  all  I  could  for  her.  She 
has  work  next  week,  or  I  wouldn't  even  stop  here  now 
to  eat  this  dinner." 

"Dunora,  you  certainly  are  an  unusual  girl.  Let 
us  go  to  dinner  now,  and  we  will  talk  later."  As 
Dunora  sat  in  the  parlor  as  they  were  talking  she 
noticed  the  elaborate  furnishings  there.  The  dining 
room  was  as  elegantly  furnished,  and  all  of  that 
home  which  she  had  seen  was  but  the  actual  reality 
of  her  long  continued  dreams.  And  to  her  thoughts 
came :  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  live  in  a  house  like  this." 

What  a  repast  was  put  before  the  famished  girl. 
Onto  the  table  were  brought  roast  beef,  squash,  tur- 
nip, parsnip,  potatoes,  spinach,  salad,  and  for  des- 
sert, plum  pudding.  Although  in  the  last  stages  of 


182     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

hunger  Dunora  controlled  herself  and  ate  like  a 
lady,  a  habit  which  always  distinguished  her.  Her 
aunt  remarked  it.  "Dunora,  where  did  you  get  your 
beautiful  table  manners?"  "By  watching  other 
people  and  using  my  common  sense  and  doing  only 
those  acts  at  the  table  which  I  thought  would  offend 
people  the  least."  "Certainly  an  unusual  girl,**  re- 
peated the  aunt. 

At  the  close  of  the  meal  Aunt  June  said,  "Now, 
Dunora,  as  I  said  when  you  first  came,  I  am  all 
alone  here  and  want  you  to  come  and  live  with  me 
and  you  can  do  work  enough  around  the  house  to  be 
at  ease  in  your  mind  about  staying  here.  You 
will  come,  I  am  sure,  for  I  want  your  companionship. 
Will  you  come?" 

"Why  surely,  Aunt  June.  But  first  let  us  put 
up  Olive's  meal,  for  I  cannot  keep  that  poor  dear 
waiting  longer.  I'll  get  my  things  and  come  back 
to-morrow.  I  hope  you  will  like  me  and  that  I  will 
like  you."  Shortly  they  were  putting  the  final 
touches  to  Olive's  dinner,  and  Dunora's  Aunt  gave 
her  a  little  bag  in  which  to  take  it  over  to  Olive. 
Then  she  went  to  the  room  where  Olive  awaited. 

The  news  of  the  coming  change  was  sad  news  to 
Olive,  for  it  meant  that  they  must  seek  separate 
ways,  and  Olive  had  grown  to  be  very  fond  of 
Dunora.  But  Olive  had  a  good  situation  in  the 
shoe  factory,  and  Dunora  had  what  looked  to  be 
a  home.  The  dinner  made  that  evening  more  than 
pleasant. 

The  next  day,  according  to  her  promise,  Dunora 
came  back  to  Everett  and  to  her  Aunt  June's.  It 
seemed  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality  to  the  girl. 


TRIALS  183 

Aunt  June  came  to  the  door  quickly  and  smiled 
at  the  small  amount  of  clothes  Dunora  brought  in 
the  bag  which  had  been  loaned  her  the  day  before. 
"You  seem  just  like  a  sunbeam  coming  into  the 
house,  Dunora.  This  house  has  been  cloudy  with 
loneliness  for  a  long,  long  time,  and  you  are  very 
welcome.  Come  up  and  let  me  show  you  your  room." 
Dunora  followed  up  the  velvety  stairs  to  the  sec- 
ond story,  where,  in  the  front  of  the  house  on  the 
tree-shaded  street,  was  a  large  room  with  pleasant 
bay  window.  It  was  very  appealingly  furnished. 
"This  is  our  guest  chamber  and  it  is  to  be  yours. 
But  you  know  you  are  not  a  guest  here,  but  just 
belong  here." 

"Oh,  Aunt  June,  I  just  can't  understand  it  all. 
I  just  can't  understand  why  all  this  good  fortune 
came  to  me  just  now  when  I  needed  it  most.  I  can't 
help  thinking  of  the  contrast  between  this  and  what 
I  just  came  from  in  Lynn.  I  don't  know  why  I  de- 
serve it  or  how  you  heard  of  me  or  why  you  asked 
me  here  when  you  found  out  where  I  was." 

"Oh,"  laughed  Aunt  June,  "I  not  only  found  out 
where  you  were,  but  I  saw  you  before  you  came  here. 
I  liked  your  looks  very  much." 

"But  it  all  seems  so  strange  to  me."  "Don't  let 
it  seem  strange.  It's  natural  enough.  As  I  said, 
you  can  busy  yourself  around  the  house  enough  to 
keep  your  mind  occupied.  Then  you  can  read,  and 
when  you  feel  tired  of  that  we  will  go  into  Boston 
to  the  theater." 

"Oh,  Aunt  June,  you  are  planning  only  for  my 
happiness,  and  you  mustn't  do  that.  I  hope  I  am 
not  selfish  and  I  couldn't  be  happy  unless  I  was 


184     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

doing  something  for  you,  too."  "You'll  find  enough 
to  do  for  me  from  time  to  time.  Don't  worry  about 
that." 

Content  with  the  assurance  of  that,  Dunora  soon 
made  herself  at  home  in  her  strange  new  dwelling 
place,  which  she  could  not  quite  understand.  She1 
endeavored  to  keep  herself  as  much  in  the  back- 
ground as  possible  and  not  to  intrude  herself  upon 
her  new-found  aunt  any  more  than  possible. 

But  her  aunt  didn't  seem  to  easily  be  denied 
Dunora's  presence.  When  the  girl  was  alone  in  her 
room  for  any  length  of  time,  invariably  Aunt  June 
wandered  up  the  stairs  and  found  an  excuse  for 
entering.  On  these  occasions  she  usually  sat  up 
very  close  to  the  girl.  Down  in  the  parlor  where 
Dunora  would  sit  in  order  to  indulge  in  her  dreams 
of  joy,  Aunt  June  would  follow  her  also  and  sit  down 
beside  her  and  cuddle  up  close. 

"Oh,  you  are  so  beautiful,"  she  would  say.  "I 
just  love  to  be  near  you."  Dunora  couldn't  quite 
understand  her,  and  waited  to  see  more  of  what  her 
aunt  would  do.  But  the  days  went  on  as  merry  as 
could  be,  and  the  previously  starved  girl  grew  full 
fleshed  and  strong  under  the  influence  of  the  abun- 
dant and  regular  food. 

After  she  had  been  there  several  weeks  Aunt  June 
came  to  her  one  day  and  said :  "Do  you  know,  dear, 
I  have  gotten  into  a  bad  habit  recently.  I  am  not 
sleeping  well.  I  get  to  thinking  of  you  and  get 
lonely.  Sometimes  I  have  been  tempted  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  to  crawl  in  beside  you,  for  I  know  that 
if  I  could  only  be  beside  you  I  could  sleep.  Would 
you  care  very  much  if  I  did?" 

"Why,  Aunt  June,"  instantly  replied  the  lass,  "if 


TRIALS  185 

you  ever  feel  that  way,  and  that  you  could  sleep  bet- 
ter by  coming  in  with  me,  why  do  so."  "Thank  you !" 
said  Aunt  June,  and  did  not  speak  further  of  it. 
They  both  went  to  the  theaters  in  Boston  frequently. 
In  the  times  in  which  Aunt  June  came  to  bed  with 
her  she  talked  confidentially.  Finally  she  grew  very 
confidential  and,  in  her  own  words,  one  night  told 
Dunora — that  she  had  a  man  visitor  at  night  when 
Dunora  was  asleep. 

Dunora  had  noticed  a  piece  from  a  man's  attire 
in  the  lower  hall  once  and  had  wondered.  But  her 
aunt's  statement  was  the  most  amazing  she  had 
heard.  It  was  the  last  thing  she  ever  would  have 
thought  of  with  relation  to  her  aunt.  Dunora  was 
so  wonderstruck  at  the  time  the  subject  was  men- 
tioned that  she  made  no  answer  to  the  words.  In 
fact  what  answer  could  she  make? 

But  soon  the  matter  came  to  a  climax.  A  day  or 
two  later  Aunt  June  met  Dunora  in  the  parlor.  She 
came  and  sat  beside  the  girl.  "Oh,  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  Hope  you  are  feeling  well.  I  want  to  talk 
to  you."  She  moved  up  close  to  Dunora  and  spoke 
softly.  "Do  you  know  I'm  really  getting  jealous 
of  you.  My  friend  was  speaking  of  you  last  night 
and  he  said  he  had  a  man  friend  who  had  seen  you 
and  was  very  much  smitten  with  you.  What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

Dunora's  answer  was  quick  and  to  the  point.  "I 
don't  think  much  of  it  if  he  is  a  friend  of  the 
man  who  comes  here  to  see  you,  Aunt  June."  Aunt 
June  didn't  expect  that  answer,  but  Dunora  was 
always  doing  the  unexpected  to  those  who  tried  to 
find  wrong  in  her.  Aunt  June  overlooked  the  slur 
and  tried  to  calm  the  rising  waters. 


186      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

"Dunora,  you  foolish  little  girl,  you  are  too  good. 
This  man  I  mentioned  is  influential  and  can  do  a 
lot  for  you,  and  he  is  so  smitten  with  you  that  he 
simply  wants  to  come  to  see  you  as  my  friend  comes 
to  see  me." 

Dunora  had  arisen  as  her  aunt  spoke,  and  the  ris- 
ing fire  shone  in  her  eyes.  "Stop  right  there,  Aunt 
June !  Now  I  know  why  you  have  been  so  good  to 
me.  I  knew  it  was  a  dream! — hollow!  hollow!  I 
couldn't  understand  what  you  did  for  me!  Now  I 
do!  You  tried  to  oil  the  way  for  this  dirty  work, 
but  you  didn't  succeed!  You  say  your  man  is  in- 
fluential and  that  I  am  too  good.  All  such  men  are 
influential  among  their  kind,  which  is  the  lowest  on 
earth.  Oh,  they  care  for  the  women,  they  do !  I've 
met  a  number  of  them,  and  they're  all  alike!  You 
see  them  ogling  girls  on  every  corner,  forgetting  that 
a  girl  gave  them  life.  They  never  think  high  asc 
any  one's  head,  and  they  live  like  so  much  human 
rot  and  die  forgotten,  and  the  only  good  they  ever 
do  is  to  die  and  rot  into  fertilizer!  I  am  too  good, 
am  I?  Yes,  I  am.  I  am  too  good  for  association 
with  worse  than  brutes !  And  I'm  too  good  to  stay 
in  this  house  any  longer!  I'm  too  good  for  you, 
and  you  know  it !  I've  long  suspected  you  and  now 
I've  found  you  out!  I'll  run  upstairs  and  get  my 
things  and  leave  this  fine  house  with  covering  of 
filth,  and  I'll  go  back  to  my  bare  rooms  again  with 
joy  and  oh,  I'm  just  ashamed  of  you.  I'm  ashamed 
of  you !  Don't  you  ever  tell  any  one  that  you're 
my  aunt,  for  you're  not!  Thank  God  there  isn't  a 
drop  of  blood  relation  between  us !  You're  not  my 
aunt.  You  are  only  so  by  adoption,  thank  God  for 
that!" 


TRIALS  187 

And  she  flung  out  of  the  room,  tore  upstairs  to 
her  room  and  gathered  her  things  together  and  went 
without  another  word.  Where  are  there  other  girls 
who  would  accept  the  coldness  of  the  world  under 
such  circumstances  instead  of  a  home  with  all  the 
comforts  if  a  moral  lassitude  were  indulged  in  at 
times.  God  grant  the  number  of  such  to  increase  in 
leaps  and  bounds.  Moral  heroism  is  as  far  above 
physical  heroism  as  the  east  is  removed  from  the 
west. 

Alone  Dunora  found  a  place  in  a  hairdresser's. 
Here  her  pleasant  ways,  in  spite  of  her  heart  break- 
ing for  a  knowledge  of  the  whereabouts  of  her  child, 
won  many  new  customers  for  her  employer.  The 
lady  who  employed  her  was  a  true  friend,  and  the 
poor  girl  at  last  tasted  more  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  of  which  she  was  sorely  in  need.  In  this 
hairdresser's  shop  she  felt  the  satisfaction  of  work 
well  done,  and  its  reward,  and  all  went  as  pleasant 
as  a  rosy  day  until  the  hairdresser  made  up  her 
mind  to  move  to  another  town,  and  Dunora  was 
again  thrown  out  of  work,  but  with  a  trifle  of  money 
saved  and  a  heart  more  rejuvenated. 

She  made  some  nice  girl  friends  about  this  time, 
and  for  the  few  days  she  was  out  of  work  she  was 
accustomed  to  walk  around  with  one  of  them  try- 
ing to  find  other  work  and  looking  in  store  windows 
to  see  the  goods  displayed  and  wondering  how  it 
would  seem  to  really  have  money  enough  to  own 
them  themselves.  And  looking  at  the  passing  auto- 
mobiles they  wondered  how  it  would  seem  to  really 
ride  in  one.  While  they  were  looking  at  them  pass- 
ing two  well-dressed  men  drew  up  to  the  curb  in  one 
in  front  of  them. 


188     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

"Excuse  us,  please,  but  do  you  know  a  couple  of 
girls  who  want  work?  We  are  looking  for  two  to 
work  in  our  store,  and  we  thought  you  might  know 
the  girls  we  wanted."  There  was  hesitation  on  the 
part  of  the  girls  for  a  moment,  then  one  of  them 
replied.  "We  are  looking  for  work  ourselves."  "Is 
that  so!"  said  the  spokesman  of  the  two  men.  "Per- 
haps you'll  be  the  very  girls  we  want.  Our  store  is 
in  Reading.  Jump  into  the  auto  and  we'll  take  you 
over  to  the  store  and  you  can  see  if  you  like  it." 

Here  were  their  hopes  realized  at  last !  Here  was 
their  chance  to  get  a  ride  in  a  real  automobile,  and 
here  was  the  chance  to  get  work.  Without  further 
thought  they  hastened  through  the  open  door  of  the 
touring  car.  Swiftly  through  the  streets  of  Lynn 
the  car  carried  them,  and  soon  they  were  going  on 
the  Newburyport  turnpike  speeding  toward  Salem. 
The  two  men  kept  their  own  council  and  talked  al- 
most entirely  to  themselves.  The  girls  were  too 
much  occupied  with  their  own  thoughts  and  their 
own  excitement  over  the  prospect  of  work  to  pay 
much  attention  to  the  men.  Furthermore,  not  know- 
ing the  men  they  were  reluctant  to  speak  to  them  at 
all. 

Through  Town  House  Square,  Salem,  they  passed, 
and  out  toward  the  Danvers  hills  by  estuaries  of 
old  ocean  and  dells  of  terrestrial  nature.  Then 
they  branched  off  in  the  direction  of  Reading,  and 
the  farms  grew  larger  and  larger  and  houses  fewer 
and  fewer.  Copses  of  woodland  came  at  frequent 
intervals,  and  then  larger  stretches  of  forest.  The 
rolling  hills  came  more  frequently  and  larger,  and 
though  in  Essex  County,  Massachusetts,  which  is  the 
most  thickly  populated  county  in  the  sixth  State  in 


TRIALS  189 

population  in  the  Union,  they  soon  came  to  such  a 
long  stretch  of  woodland  that  even  from  a  hilltop 
which  they  reached  no  human  habitation  could  be 
seen  as  far  as  the  eye  had  unobstructed  vision. 

Here  on  a  sudden,  the  men  stopped  the  auto- 
mobile and  at  once  they  came  round  to  the  side  of 
the  car,  opened  the  door  and  one  of  them  said :  "Let's 
get  out  here  a  while."  The  girls,  having  no  reason 
for  distrust,  stepped  out.  As  soon  as  they  did  so 
the  men  stepped  right  to  them,  smiled  with  the  know- 
ing smile  of  those  who  have  accomplished  some  evil 
design,  and  said :  "Now  we've  got  you  where  we  want 
you!  You  don't  get  back  from  here  till  we  get  our 
satisfaction !  There's  no  one  near  here  to  help  you 
so  you  might  as  well  make  the  best  of  it  and" — they 
didn't  get  any  farther  than  that  with  Dunora.  The 
other  girl  began  to  beg  but  Dunora  struck  her  on 
the  back,  said :  "Brace  up !"  and  turned  to  the  men 
with,  "So,  you  dirty  cowards,  that's  the  way  you 
help  girls  to  get  work  is  it?  You  skunks,  you  think 
you'll  get  the  better  of  us,  do  you?  I've  got  the 
number  of  your  car  and  so  don't  you  lay  a  finger  on 
us  or  you'll  hear  from  it  in  two  ways  you  don't 
expect!"  She  pulled  a  huge  hatpin  from  her  hat, 
held  it  as  an  offensive  weapon  and  said :  "You  touch 
one  of  us  and  I'll  drive  this  into  you !" 

One  of  the  men  then  said:  "All  right!  We  will 
drive  on  and  leave  you  here  and  you  can  find  your 
way  back  the  best  way  you  can."  No  word  was 
spoken  by  Dunora  in  reply.  But  in  an  instant  there 
was  a  quick  motion  on  her  part,  an  upraised  arm 
which  then  swept  downward  rapidly,  and  its  down- 
ward sweep  was  followed  by  a  loud  report  and  the 
hiss  of  escaping  air.  In  that  instant  she  had  stabbed 


190     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

her  heavy  hat  pin  through  the  side  of  the  rear  tire 
and  it  had  blown  out.  "Now  I  think  you'll  take  us 
back,"  was  all  Dunora  said. 

"By  God!"  exclaimed  the  ringleader,  "now  see 
what  you've  done!"  "And  you  see  it,  too!"  declared 
Dunora.  "And  you  also  see  that  you  will  not  go  off 
and  leave  us  here.  You  can't  move  a  yard  till  you 
get  help,  and  we  two  girls  will  wait  here  and  see  that 
the  automobile  doesn't  run  away  while  you  two  men 
walk  back  over  the  road  to  get  something  to  mend 
the  hole  in  your  tire." 

The  men  changed  front  at  this.  The  one  who  ap- 
peared the  more  talkative  of  the  two  laughed  with 
a  better  laugh  than  he  had  indulged  in  that  day.  He 
spoke  to  Dunora  and  paid  no  attention  to  the  other 
girl.  "My  girl,"  said  he,  "I  am  very  glad  to  meet 
a  self-respecting  woman.  I  have  been  a  dog  and 
you  have  behaved  like  a  true  woman  that  you  are. 
It  may  be  quite  a  time  before  we  can  fix  this,  but 
when  it  is  fixed  we  will  gladly  give  you  a  ride  back  to 
Lynn."  And  they  did.  And  those  two  men  thought 
differently  of  women  after  that  ride  to  the  lonely 
woods  near  Reading. 

And  Dunora  was  again  out  of  work.  When  penni- 
less she  was  obliged  to  go  without  food,  but  upon 
her  buying  some  meals  in  a  Chinese  restaurant  one  of 
the  Chinese  proprietors  observed  her.  This  Chinaman 
was  a  father  and  had  a  little  daughter  to  whom  the 
heart-hungry  Dunora  took  a  fancy.  The  wily  Ori- 
ental surmised  that  Dunora  was  not  overburdened 
with  money,  and  he  told  her  she  could  be  trusted  for 
any  meals  when  she  needed  them  and  was  out  of 
funds.  She,  thinking  it  the  kindness  any  American 


TRIALS  191 

gentleman  would  extend  to  a  refined  woman  in  need, 
accepted  the  offer  in  that  spirit.  Once  or  twice  she 
permitted  the  trust  to  be  extended,  but  paid  the 
bills  upon  coming  into  funds  again.  She  noticed  the 
Chinese  father  seemed  to  stay  around  on  the  occa- 
sions when  she  came  in,  but  suspected  nothing. 

One  day  she  came  in  late  to  dinner  when  there 
was  no  one  else  eating  in  any  of  the  booths  so  preva- 
lent in  Chinese  restaurants.  After  she  had  eaten 
part  of  her  meal  the  Chinaman  came  into  the  booth 
and  sat  down  opposite  her.  He  smiled  his  oily, 
meaningless  smile.  Lifting  up  his  finger  he  showed 
a  ring  he  had  which  he,  like  the  rest  of  his  race, 
had  gotten  by  living  on  the  lowest  and  cheapest  form 
of  food,  and  in  the  lowest  and  cheapest  way.  "You 
like  rings?"  he  asked.  "All  girls  like  rings,"  was 
the  reply.  "I  want  to  give  you  a  ring,"  was  the 
astonishing  rejoinder.  "What  do  you  mean?"  asked 
the  nonplussed  girl.  The  Chinaman  leaned  across 
the  table  and  lowered  his  voice.  "I  got  a  big 
diamond  ring,  a  great  big  diamond  ring,  worth  much. 
I  give  it  to  you  if  you  stay  with  me  one  night." 

The  expressionless  face  of  the  Oriental  showed 
nothing  but  its  usual  stolid  sensuality.  Dunora 
arose  and  looked  him  in  the  face  with  a  look  no 
American  would  have  cared  to  have  faced.  "So  that 
is  why  you  gave  me  credit  for  my  meals,  is  it?  That 
is  what  you  thought  of  my  character.  You  thought 
you  could  buy  my  soul  with  a  diamond  ring?  I 
suppose  your  race  thinks  that  money  is  all  there  is 
in  the  world  and  that  you  can  buy  anything  with 
it.  But,  you  cur,  you  can't  buy  womanhood,  and  if 
I  ever  hear  of  your  saying  anything  like  this  to  any 


192      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

other  decent  woman  I'll  report  you  to  those  who 
know  what  to  do  to  such  as  you.  Go  to  your  Chinese 
wife,  you  Chinese  beast !"  And  she  walked  out. 

At  about  this  time  Dunora  experienced  a  time  of 
great  financial  stress  again.  She  was  obliged  to 
move  from  even  her  very  poor  room  to  one  that  cost 
even  less.  But  she  faced  the  situation  bravely  and 
did  not  murmur  when  money  grew  scanty  and,  even 
with  her  fastidious  nature  she  was  obliged  to  go 
into  ill-kept  quarters. 

But  when  she  did  so  she  didn't  realize  what  she 
was  entering.  She  had  made  the  acquaintance  of 
a  girl  about  whom  she  knew  little,  and  this  girl  told 
her  of  a  house  where  she  could  get  a  room  at  a  figure 
which  was  very  reasonable. 

Dunora  found  other  girls  there,  and  soon  noticed 
the  roughness  of  their  talk.  But  she  did  not  at 
first  find  out  their  character,  as  she  was  outdoors 
all  day  looking  for  work,  and  at  night,  completely 
exhausted,  she  went  to  her  room  and  almost  at  once 
to  sleep.  The  girls  began  dropping  into  her  room 
and,  out  of  the  fellow  feeling  in  their  hearts,  they 
gave  her  some  food. 

Soon  she  found  them  to  be  girls  whom  the  lust 
of  men  had  condemned  to  the  streets.  They  tempted 
her  to  become  one  of  them.  They  promised  her  food 
and  clothes.  Her  answer  was  to  leave  the  place 
without  money.  A  merciful  providence  assisted  her 
in  finding  work  that  day. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

HER    FIRST    HOME 

MONTHS  passed  in  which  Dunora  drowned  her 
thoughts  as  much  as  possible  in  work  or  in 
seeking  it  when  a  situation  in  which  she  was  em- 
ployed ceased  offering  employment.  But  all  the 
time  there  was  gnawing  at  her  heart  the  mother's 
yearnings  for  her  child.  Exercise  sufficient  mentality 
to  imagine,  as  near  as  you  can  if  you  are  a  woman 
what  you  would  have  felt  under  circumstances  like 
those  narrated  if  you  had  been  robbed  of  your  only 
child  in  such  a  fashion  and  knew  not  where  she  was 
or  whether  the  child  of  your  flesh  was  dead  or  alive, 
as  weary  month  followed  weary  month.  Think  over 
those  three  weeks,  twenty-one  days  of  unconscious- 
ness after  Dunora  fell  prone  at  the  door  where  the 
landlady  told  her  the  words  she  spoke. 

It  would  seem  that  at  this  time  it  was  decreed 
that  she  had  suffered  enough  of  roofless  days  and 
nights  and  periods  of  starvation.  She  made  many 
girl  friends  and,  necessarily,  some  men  friends.  One 
day  while  she  was  in  a  room  with  a  few  of  her  girl 
friends  a  man,  many  years  her  senior,  was  there 
calling.  Dunora's  frank  face  always  attracted  at- 
tention. This  man,  whose  head  was  quite  gray 
and  very  bald  on  top  had  lost  his  wife  and  was  liv- 
ing an  aimless  existence  on  an  income  partly  in- 

193 


194      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

herited  and  partly  coming  from  other  sources  then 
unknown  save  to  himself  and  those  immediately  con- 
cerned in  its  acquisition.  Dunora  and  her  unusual 
ways  aroused  his  curiosity  and  interest,  and  he  made 
inquiry  concerning  her  from  some  of  the  people  in 
the  room. 

There  was  considerable  harmless  hilarity  there, 
and  in  the  course  of  it  this  man  came  to  be  intro- 
duced, and  then  talked  with  her.  He  told  her  that 
he  had  furniture  in  storage  with  which  he  had  fur- 
nished an  apartment  when  he  had  a  wife.  He  added 
that  he  had  been  seeking  a  chance  to  have  some  one 
keep  house  for  him  again,  as  he  was  dissatisfied 
with  living  in  the  way  in  which  he  was  and  if  she 
would  be  his  housekeeper  he  would  give  her  a  home 
and  food  and  a  fixed  salary.  He  added  that  he 
was  so  much  older  than  she  that  it  would  be  all  right 
to  make  such  an  arrangement.  Dunora  said :  "What 
you  are  asking  is  most  unusual.  I  do  not  know 
about  you  or  how  much  I  could  trust  you  if  I  did  as 
you  suggest.  I  am  very  fond  of  cooking  but  I  have 
a  matter  on  my  mind  which  would  make  me  unfit 
to  do  my  best."  The  man  replied  that  he  had  en- 
quired about  her  and  had  found  out  about  the  loss 
of  her  daughter,  and  that  if  she  would  keep  house 
for  him  he  would  assist  her  in  finding  Irene. 

To  the  heartbroken  mother  there  was  only  one  sac- 
rifice she  would  not  make  to  accomplish  the  finding 
of  Irene.  And  when  the  possibility  of  finding  her 
came  in  such  pleasant  guise  it  made  the  offer  more 
than  appealing.  But  she  told  the  man  whose  name 
was  Walter  Burrill,  that  she  could  not  decide  at 
that  time. 

She  thought  it  all  out  and  came  to  the  conclusion 


HER  FIRST  HOME  195 

that  she  would  accept  the  situation  until  she  found 
she  couldn't  trust  him,  so  she  told  him,  the  following 
day,  that  she  would  accept  the  position.  Accord- 
ingly he  sent  her  to  hunt  a  flat,  and  she  found  one 
to  his  liking  and  the  furniture  was  moved  in.  The 
arrangement  was  purely  of  business,  he  furnished  the 
flat  and  food  in  the  rough  and  she,  with  her  really 
great  ability  in  that  direction,  cooked  and  made  the 
flat  a  home.  They  had  practically  nothing  to  do 
with  each  other  except  in  this  business  way,  he  going 
his  way  and  she  hers.  And  so  although  under  the 
same  roof  neither  knew  when  the  other  went  out  or 
when  either  one  was  out  the  other  did  not  know 
when  the  outsider  was  to  be  expected.  Their  friends 
were  totally  different,  their  ways  totally  different, 
their  ages  totally  different,  but  Dunora  had  a  home 
where,  for  a  time,  her  reserve  was  respected  and  she 
was  not  interfered  with  in  her  privacy.  But  that 
did  not  last.  Burrill  had  a  past  with  which  Dunora 
was  not  acquainted  when  the  arrangement  was  made. 
It  began  to  crop  out.  One  day  he  came  home  in- 
toxicated, but  Dunora  had  been  prepared  by  pre- 
vious developments,  and  it  was  not  the  shock  to  her 
that  it  might  otherwise  have  been.  But  it  drew  her 
farther  and  farther  away  from  any  association  with 
him  except  of  purely  business  nature.  They  were 
living  in  Everett  then,  in  an  apartment  house  where 
lived  many  families.  One  poor  woman,  sick  and 
abused  by  her  husband,  saw  Dunora's  predicament 
and  was  truly  a  friend  in  need.  Worse  and  worse 
grew  Burrill's  periods  of  intoxication,  and  Dunora 
kept  out  of  the  flat  at  one  or  another  of  her  girl 
friends  for  even  days  at  a  time  when  he  was  away 
with  convivial  friends.  At  this  time  he  began  to 


196      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

make  advances  toward  her  of  an  amatory  nature. 
These,  inasmuch  as  they  were  not  rough,  were  turned 
aside  in  a  ladylike  manner  by  Dunora. 

So  it  continued  for  quite  a  time,  and  Dunora  saw 
a  disruption  inevitable.  Think  over  the  predica- 
ment of  the  girl  at  this  time.  A  home  had  been 
offered  her  and  protection.  It  was  heaven  to  find 
a  roof  over  her  head.  She  had  behaved  herself  as 
a  lady.  The  most  blameworthy  act  she  had  ever 
done  was  an  occasional  exhibition  of  righteous  tem- 
per, and  she  had  protected  him  in  more  than  one 
way  and  often.  Then  the  roof  was  falling  through 
no  fault  of  hers,  and  the  arrangement  ended  as  will 
be  seen  shortly. 

Just  at  this  time  of  especial  trial  and  especial 
need  Vir  Noble  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  re- 
meeting  in  Scollay  Square,  Boston,  has  already  been 
recounted,  and  the  increasing  thrills  as,  at  frequent 
intervals,  Dunora  blessed  Vir  with  her  presence.  Be- 
tween periods  of  time  preceding  this  occurrence,  the 
child  marriage  of  Dunora  had  been  annulled.  At 
this  time  Vir  knew  not  of  any  of  the  circumstances 
of  this. 

As  that  meeting  took  place  in  Scollay  Square 
truly 

The  soul  within  him  leaped  forth 

To  its  mate,  though  he  knew  not 
That  the  girl  of  girls  then  stood  there 

Led  by  God  unto  that  spot. 
Yet  there  stirred  within  his  heart's  core 

Impulses  not  felt  before, 
And  the  strongest  heartfelt  yearning 

Made  him  long  to  know  her  more. 


HER  FIRST  HOME  197 

During  the  time  in  which  Dunora  had  been  con- 
tinuing the  arrangement  with  Burrill  she  had,  be- 
cause of  his  growing  intoxication,  come  to  the  point 
of  breaking  though  she  had  done  her  best  to  try 
to  break  him  of  his  dissoluteness.  At  every  possible 
occasion  Vir  tried  to  be  with  her,  and  meeting  her 
became  of  the  first  importance  in  his  mind. 

One  evening,  after  one  of  their  dinners  together, 
he  again  asked  her  if  he  might  not  see  her  to  her 
suburban  home.  "Not  to-night,  Mr.  Burrill  may  be 
home  and  I  do  not  want  him  to  see  you  just  now.  I 
may  need  you  later."  "I  may  need  you  later" — it* 
rang  in  Vir's  ears  like  celestial  music.  It  was  the 
very  first  time  that  this  girl  of  girls  had  ever  ex- 
pressed the  least  dependence  on  him  and  no  strong 
man  can  harden  his  heart  to  the  dependence  of  a 
woman.  It  is  one  of  the  sweet  things  of  earth.  Vir's 
blood  surged  through  his  veins.  She  dependent  for 
the  least  thing  on  him !  Glorious !  Glorious !  But, 
oh,  how  he  longed  to  go  to  her  home  with  her.  He 
knew,  he  doubly  knew,  that  the  frail  body  was  carry- 
ing a  burden  of  which  her  lips  did  not  speak.  His 
heart  went  out  to  her  without  a  thought  of  himself, 
for  he  utterly  yearned  to  put  his  arm  of  protection 
around  her  in  a  literal  as  well  as  a  figurative  sense. 
Why  should  she  be  called  upon  to  carry  this  burden 
alone?  She  was  in  an  extremely  nervous  state,  and 
at  times  when  she  was  standing  still  he  beheld  her 
hand  shake  like  a  leaf  for  long  periods  of  time.  Only 
a  great  nervous  strain  could  account  for  that,  and 
Vir  longed  to  know  its  cause  and  assist  in  the  cure. 

When  Dunora  told  him  he  might  not  see  her  to 
her  house  that  evening  but  that  she  might  need  him 
later,  he  swallowed  a  great  lump  of  chagrin  and 


swelled  with  the  joy  of  being  of  possible  assistance. 
So  with  great  reluctance  he  made  no  direct  reply  to 
her  statement,  but  he  pressed  the  question  of  coming 
out  to  see  her  home  as  soon  as  possible.  Dunora 
hesitated  a  moment  and  then  said,  "I  will  do  this. 
We  will  go  to  supper  again  to-morrow  night  and 
after  supper  you  may  go  out  with  me  as  far  as  my 
house  and,  if  Burrill  is  not  there,  you  may  come  in." 

Vir  had  to  exercise  an  appreciable  amount  of  self- 
restraint  not  to  say  something  about  this  Burrill. 
He  knew  enough  of  men  of  the  world  and  especially 
of  such  as  had  a  reputation  akin  to  Burrill's  to  know 
that  no  good  would  come  of  a  continuance  of  the 
Burrill  arrangement,  yet  he  respected  Dunora  to 
the  extent  that  he  waited  for  her  to  say  something 
before  he  added  his  thoughts. 

The  next  evening  after  their  supper  Vir  enjoyed 
the  rapture  of  assisting  her  to  the  car  in  the  sub- 
way at  Scollay  Square.  On  the  hour's  ride  to  the 
suburb  where  her  house  was  situated  they  spoke  in 
low  tones,  and  she  gave  him  one  of  her  first  confi- 
dences. "I  have  had  trouble  with  Mr.  Burrill,  seri- 
ous trouble,  and  I  have  ordered  him  out  of  my 
house."  Vir  almost  forgot  himself  so  that  he  nearly 
shouted,  "Hurrah!"  But  he  restrained  his  joy  to 
subdued  tones.  The  girl  continued.  "As  you  know, 
I  bought  the  house  only  about  a  month  ago,  and 
he  has  been  renting  it  from  me.  In  this  way  I  have 
an  income  from  it,  but  income  or  no  income,  I  have 
suffered  all  I  shall  at  his  hands,  and  I  have  given 
him  notice  to  go."  Here  Vir  interrupted.  "Why 
don't  you  order  him  out  right  off?  It  is  your 
house."  "I  cannot,  for  he  has  paid  in  advance,  and 
he  has  two  weeks  more,  but  if  he  doesn't  go  then  I 


HER  FIRST  HOME  199 

shall  take  means  to  force  him  out."  The  determina- 
tion with  which  she  spoke  those  words  showed  full 
well  the  firmness  of  the  purpose  behind  them.  Vir 
looked  at  her  with  silent  admiration.  To  break 
through  that  independence  and  become  depended  on 
by  Dunora  was  a  prize  worthy  the  mightiest  of 
struggles.  And  again  Vir  gritted  his  teeth  for  the 
fight  for  her  love.  Again  and  again  Vir  saw  that 
his  own  years  of  bitterness  could  be  crowned  with 
God's  greatest  earthly  gift  if  he  could  only  win 
Dunora's  love.  Ah,  but  it  was  not  his  for  the  ask- 
ing. Only  could  he  win  it  by  a  long  process  during 
which  he  must  show  himself  not  only  a  man  but  one 
exhibiting  qualities  of  manhood  coming  up  to  Du- 
nora's standard  which  was  made  unusually  high 
because  of  her  previous  association  with  the  hard 
and  cruel  things  of  life. 

They  came  to  the  suburb  where  was  Dunora's 
house.  Alighting  from  the  car  which  did  not  go 
within  sight  of  her  home,  they  walked  till  she  said: 
"We  will  come  in  sight  of  my  bungalow  as  soon  as 
we  pass  this  next  house.  Then  we  can  see  if  Bur- 
rill  is  there."  They  passed  the  house  mentioned  and 
across  the  field,  and  over  near  some  open  woods  stood 
a  house  which  Vir  could  only  indistinctly  see  because 
of  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  In  the  upper  rear 
windows  a  light  shone.  A  man's  head  appeared  in 
one  of  the  two  windows.  "There  he  is  looking  for 
me.  1*11  run  across  the  field  and  I'll  see  you  in  about 
ten  minutes  right  here.  I'll  feed  my  dog  and  then 
come  back,  and  I'll  spend  the  night  at  my  girl 
friend's  house.  You  can  go  with  me  to  her  door. 
She  lives  in  Everett." 

Into  the  darkness  of  the  field  he  saw  the  form  so 


200     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

dear  to  liim  go.  Around  the  corner  of  the  bungalow 
he  saw  her  turn  as  she  came  into  the  light  reflected 
from  the  upstairs  window.  Then  he  heard  the 
heavy  door  shut  and  with  it  felt  a  pain  in  his  heart. 
The  moments  during  which  she  was  within  the  house 
were  hours  to  Vir.  But  at  length,  after  he  had 
seen  the  lights  flash  on  downstairs,  he  heard  the 
door  reopen  and  saw  her  come  toward  him  around 
the  bungalow's  corner  and  disappear  again  into  the 
intervening  darkness.  As  out  of  the  darkness  of  his 
bitter  life  the  sunbeam  of  Dunora  had  come,  so  out 
of  the  darkness  which  then  intervened  the  dear 
Dunora  was  to  burst. 

As  she  came  into  the  light  up  the  little  hillock  his 
face  beamed  with  joy,  and  he  exclaimed:  "Oh,  I'm 
so  glad  to  see  you.  It  seemed  a  year  that  you  were 
in  that  house."  "Did  it?"  enquired  the  girl  as  if  she 
didn't  know.  Together  they  took  the  car  for  Mai- 
den, and  in  Maiden  Square  changed  cars  for  Everett. 
There  was  an  intangible  something  existing  then  be- 
tween them  which  drew  them  nearer  together.  It 
was  both  her  need  and  his  need.  Their  conversation 
was  on  pleasant  subjects,  and  even  laughter  came. 
Dearly  did  he  like  to  see  it  on  her  lips.  They  came 
to  the  street  near  Everett  Square  where  her  friend 
lived,  and  passed  down  it  to  the  little  cottage  house. 
The  friend  came  to  the  door  and  all  three  stood 
there  and  talked.  It  was  an  hour  of  great  pleasure 
to  Vir.  Finally  Dunora's  friend  passed  within  and 
Dunora  and  Vir  stood  close  together  by  the  little 
cottage  door.  "Well,  I  must  go  within,"  she  said. 
But  she  didn't  move.  A  look  came  over  her  face  he 
had  not  seen  before,  but  he  read  a  new  passage  in 
his  life.  Oh,  but  the  glow  of  ripening  love,  the  gleam 


HER  FIRST  HOME  201 

of  heart  warmth,  the  heat  of  the  fire  of  Cupid's  pas- 
sion which  raged  through  him! 

Softly  he  tiptoed  from  that  little  yard,  and  as  he 
stood  in  the  gateway  he  turned  and  looked  back  at 
the  cottage  which  contained  the  form  of  her  so  dear 
to  him.  The  four  walls  spoke  not,  yet  within  them 
was  life  to  him.  As* he  turned  down  the  street  he 
strode  a  better  man  with  a  higher  purpose  and  a 
newer  resolve  to  conquer  in  order  to  win  her  and, 
above  all,  to  conquer  for  her  sake. 

They  met  the  next  day  again.  They  went  to  the 
theater  and  to  supper,  and  again  the  subject  of  her 
home  came  up  in  the  conversation.  "Sunday  I  am 
going  to  invite  you  to  call  and  see  my  house  if 
Burrill  isn't  in.  I'll  go  out  there  about  ten  thirty 
and  you  come  at  eleven.  Come  down  the  street  to- 
ward the  house,  and  I'll  be  in  the  bay  window.  If 
he  isn't  there  I'll  shake  my  head  'Yes'  for  you  to 
come  to  the  door,  but  if  I  shake  it  'No'  it  will  mean 
that  he  is  in.  In  that  case  pass  by  on  the  street  and 
go  around  the  square  and  I'll  meet  you  at  the  cor- 
ner where  you  stood  that  night  when  you  first  saw 
the  bungalow." 

Sunday  came  on  lagging  hours.  The  forenoon 
seemed  endless  until  the  hour  arrived  for  him  to 
start,  and  by  speediest  car  he  arrived  at  the  Ave- 
nue on  which  the  bungalow  was  situated.  Up  it 
he  went  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with  the  bungalow 
full  in  his  view.  In  the  darkness  he  had 
not  discerned  the  nature  of  the  bungalow,  which 
appeared  in  the  daylight  a  thing  of  beauty. 
It  was  entirely  of  stucco  with  red  fireproof  roofing 
and  the  whole  dainty  appearance  gave  one  the  im- 
pression that  the  builder  was  of  artistic  eye.  Just 


202      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

beyond  was  an  oak  crowned  hill,  where  wild  birds 
sang,  and  its  parlor  windows  looked  out  on  open  oak 
and  pine  woods  rising  to  rocky,  fern-clad  emi- 
nences. 

As  Vir  approached,  all  atremble,  he  beheld  Du- 
nora's  face  and  form  in  the  bay  window.  Which 
way  would  she  nod?  For  a  moment  he  felt  like  the 
gladiators  in  the  ancient  Roman  Coliseum  when,  de- 
feated and  waiting  for  the  verdict  of  the  blood- 
thirsty populace,  they  waited  the  thumb^  down 
w  ich  meant  death  or  the  thumbs  up  which  meant 
In  >.  But  even  if  Burrill  was  within  Vir  knew  that 
hrlj  stay  there  was  but  for  a  little  time  longer.  As 
Dunora  smiled  on  Vir  she  nodded  "No"  and  pointed 
toward  the  kitchen  indicating  that  Burrill  was  there, 
so  he  passed  by  without  changing  his  expression. 
Continuing  through  the  woodland  on  either  side  he 
turned  around  the  square  and  came  to  the  place  of 
meeting,  and  Dunora  was  there  awaiting  him. 

"You  may  wonder  why  I  have  not  wanted  you  to 
see  Mr.  Burrill.  The  reason  is  that  I  dislike  him  so 
much  that  I  do  not  want  to  dishonor  you  by  meeting 
him."  In  this  indirect  way  did  Vir  learn  more  of 
what  her  estimation  of  him  then  was.  Not  by  direct 
statement,  but  by  inference,  all  the  more  sweet,  did 
Vir  proceed  in  his  knowledge  of  how  he  stood  in 
Dunora's  mind. 

A  few  days  later  Dunora  and  Vir  went  to  the 
Auditorium  in  Lynn  and  witnessed  a  performance 
of  "Shore  Acres."  Its  State  of  Maine  locale  brought 
pleasure  to  them  both.  As  they  sat  there  prepara- 
tory to  gathering  up  their  wrappings  and  going  out 
to  her  home,  at  the  door  of  which  he  was  to  leave 
her,  he  could  not  help  the  thought  that  he  wished  he 


HER  FIRST  HOME  203 

did  not  have  to  leave  her  at  the  door,  but  that  by 
right  of  love,  by  right  of  holy  love,  by  right  of  fel- 
low ownership  and  by  right  of  protection  he  might 
enter  that  bungalow  door.  Strange  enough,  that 
very  wish  was  to  have  its  fulfillment,  in  part,  that 
very  night. 

The  performance  ceased,  and  they  filed  out  with 
the  crowd,  waiting  for  their  car  at  the  very  door  of 
the  theater.  When  they  got  on  the  car  it  was  well 
filled  except  forward  on  the  right-hand  side.  The 
very  first  seat  was  unoccupied,  also  the  longitudinal 
seat  in  front  of  it.  They  did  not  notice  that  the 
car  stopped  at  the  next  white  post  and  that  among 
others  a  man  got  on  also.  While  they  were  engaged 
in  conversation  this  man  passed  forward  in  the  car 
and  sat  down  directly  in  front  of  them  on  the  long 
seat. 

"That  is  Burrill.  He  saw  us  get  on  and  he  is 
after  you,"  said  Dunora  in  subdued  voice.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  form  Dunora  introduced  the  younger  to  the 
older  man.  Vir,  as  a  matter  of  form  also,  said:  "I 
am  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Burrill."  Burrill  glowered 
at  him  for  a  moment  without  speaking.  Then  he 
gutturaled :  "Well,  I'm  not  glad  to  meet  you,  young 
man !" 

Inwardly  Vir  smiled,  for  nothing  would  have  dis- 
pleased him  more  than  to  have  had  Burrill  glad  to 
meet  him.  Burrill  was  so  open  in  showing  his  hos- 
tility that  it  was  amusing.  He  sat  there  for  a  time 
scowling  at  them  as  if  desiring  to  eat  Vir  alive,  but 
Vir,  having  had  some  experiences  in  life,  was  far 
from  disconcerted,  and  returned  his  frown  with  a 
smile.  Not  progressing  easily  along  the  highway  of 
browbeating,  Burrill  got  uneasy.  He  began  to  get 


ill  at  ease  in  Vir's  company  and  fidgeted  back  and 
forth  on  the  plush  seat. 

Finally  he  leaned  toward  Dunora  and  said,  rather 
huskily:  "I'll  go  back  to  Lynn  and  get  a  bunch  of 
the  fellows  and  come  over  to  the  house  in  an  auto- 
mobile." He  then  got  off  the  car.  There  came  a 
look  on  Dunora's  face  which  pained  Vir.  He  read  in 
it  suppressed  anxiety.  But  before  he  had  a  chance 
to  frame  a  question  Dunora  spoke: 

"Burrill  is  going  back  to  Lynn  to  gather  up  a 
crowd  of  loafers  at  the  saloons  to  come  out  to  my 
house  to  cause  trouble."  She  paused  as  if  hesitat- 
ing to  say  what  was  in  her  mind.  Then  she  added: 
"A  few  weeks  ago  he  did  the  same  thing.  He  was 
drunk  and  he  got  a  crowd  of  his  human  wrecks  piled 
into  an  automobile  and  they  drove  up  to  my  house 
when  I  was  all  alone  in  it.  As  he  was  paying  rent 
and  had  a  key  he  let  them  all  in,  and  I  was  alone 
with  six  intoxicated  men  whom  he  had  induced  to 
make  trouble  for  me.  I  was  in  the  kitchen  at  the 
time,  and  they  all  staggered  in  there  led  by  a  saloon- 
keeper named  Leavitt.  He  was  so  full  of  rum  bravery 
that  he  began  to  tell  me  what  he  was  going  to  do 
to  myself  and  my  house. 

"  'Oho,  my  fine  lady,'  brawled  Leavitt,  'we've  got 
you  now  where  we  want  you !  You,  with  all  your  fine 
manners!  What  good  will  they  do  you  now!'  And 
he  laughed  the  laugh  of  the  brute  beast  he  was. 
'No  one  will  see  us  here !  Oh,  so  pure  and  good !  ' 
By  God,  we'll  fix  that!'  and  he  made  a  rush  for  me. 
My  brain  had  been  working  rapidly  while  he  spoke 
and  assistance  came  unexpectedly.  I  had  my  back 
to  the  pantry,  and  by  some  providential  happening 
my  great  carving  knife  was  within  my  reach.  I 


HER  FIRST  HOME  205 

grasped  it  and  held  it  aloft.  He,  coward  that  he 
was,  stopped  instantly.  'Leavitt,  you  dog,  if  you 
come  one  step  nearer  I'll  bury  this  in  you !'  He  re- 
coiled. 'Now  get  out  of  my  house  quick !  Go  to 
your  poor  wife,  you  brute !'  And  the  crowd  tumbled 
over  themselves  in  getting  into  that  automobile." 

As  Vir  listened  to  this  tale  he  shuddered  at 
the  possibilities  had  those  drunken  beasts  been 
dealing  with  a  less  determined  girl  than  Dunora. 
Then  he  said :  "God  be  thanked  that  you  were  as 
brave  as  you  were.  I  can't  think  of  it  without  shud- 
dering. I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  let  me  come  out 
to  your  house  to-night.  To  the  dickens  with  the 
conventionalities.  You  are  in  danger,  and  I'd  be 
no  man  if  I  didn't  try  to  protect  you." 

Dunora  replied  in  calm  voice:  "Oh,  you  needn't 
come.  I'm  all  right.  I  have  dealt  with  him  and  his 
crowd  before,  and  I  can  do  it  again.  He  may  bring 
out  a  new  pack  to-night." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

FAREWELL    HELL 

VIR'S  jaw  stiffened,  though  not  perceptibly  to  an 
onlooker.  "Dunora,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  to  go 
out  to  your  house  with  you,  and  that's  all  there  is 
to  it."  "Oh,  don't  be  foolish,  Vir.  Just  ride  on  to 
Boston  to  your  room  and  I'll  get  off  at  the  Avenue 
and  go  to  the  house  and  I'll  be  all  right.  You  need 
your  sleep  and  it  will  take  you  a  long  time  to  get 
to  your  room  anyway.  You  just  keep  on  the  car 
and  I'll  quickly  get  to  the  house  and  go  to  bed." 

"Dunora  Whitney,  I'm  far  more  determined  to 
go  with  you  than  you  are  not  to  have  me,  so  do  not 
waste  words  as  I  am  coming  to  your  house  even  if 
you  lock  me  out,  and  I  have  to  stay  outside."  They 
were  arriving  at  the  Avenue  as  they  were  speaking, 
and  both  alighted  from  the  car  and  started  up  the 
dark  Avenue.  Dunora  blithely  said:  "Since  you  are 
so  considerate  I  will  not  lock  you  out,  but  you  can 
come  right  in  and  sit  down  in  the  parlor."  Vir 
laughed.  "Dunora,  we  did  not  think  that  I  would 
see  your  house  for  the  first  time  under  such  circum- 
stances. It  will  make  the  house  doubly  precious  to 
enter  it  first  in  the  role  of  a  protector." 

They  came  to  the  greensward  in  front  of  the  bun- 
galow, and  in  the  slight  glow  of  the  distant  street 
incandescent  lamp  he  again  beheld  at  close  quarters 

206 


FAREWELL  HELL  207 

the  beautiful  stucco  cottage.  They  mounted  the 
steps  to  the  piazza  and  he  stood  on  a  floor  of  the 
house  at  last.  Dunora  fitted  her  key  to  the  lock, 
she  stepped  within,  touched  a  button  and  the  interior 
was  flooded  with  light.  He  stepped  within  also,  the 
door  was  closed  and  he  had  the  inestimable  pleas- 
ure of  being  with  her  in  her  own  home. 

She  carried  him  through  it,  showed  him  the  vari- 
ous rooms,  the  tidy  kitchen  and  pantry  save  for  the 
signs  of  Burrill's  debauchery  since  she  had  been 
there.  Vir  was  impressed  with  the  great  care  and 
neatness  with  which  Dunora  had  arranged  every 
article  which  came  under  her  supervision.  The 
house  was  well  furnished,  but  lacked  that  indefinable 
quality  which  changes  a  house  into  a  home. 

There  was  a  strained  feeling  as  they  waited  there, 
for  both  sat  in  the  parlor  facing  each  other  from 
opposite  corners  of  the  room  and  awaiting  develop- 
ments. Hour  after  hour  dragged  by  as  they  sat 
there  with  lights  on  and  curtains  raised  so  that  any 
one  outside  might  see  all  within.  Nine,  ten,  eleven, 
twelve,  one,  two  struck  and  no  sign  of  any  one,  al- 
though every  sound  outside  was  construed  to  be  the 
crowd  coming. 

At  length  Vir  said,  "It  doesn't  look  as  if  we  were 
to  be  honored  by  a  call  to-night.  We  have  been  up 
nearly  all  night  to-night,  so  what  do  you  say  to 
making  a  night  of  it  and  going  outside  now  and  tak- 
ing a  walk  to  wake  us  up." 

Dunora  suggested  that  they  go  to  Lynn,  to  which 
suggestion  Vir  objected,  as  it  was  six  miles,  and  no 
cars  were  going  at  that  early  hour.  "Let  us  walk 
then,"  said  the  girl.  "Well,  if  you  feel  like  it,  we 
will  and  we  will  find  some  restaurant  open  and  will 


208     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

get  some  food  and  coffee  to  brace  us  up.  Bunill 
must  have  lost  courage  or  become  too  intoxicated." 

They  started  out  together,  and  Vir  suggested, 
"Possibly  Burrill  came  near  your  bungalow  and, 
seeing  both  of  us  through  the  windows,  concluded  not 
to  enter."  They  walked  down  to  the  main  avenue 
and  saw  no  one.  On  the  main  avenue  to  East  Sau- 
gus  they  walked  without  seeing  a  living  being.  As 
they  walked  down  Lincoln  Avenue,  East  Saugus,  an 
officious  young  policeman  followed  them  a  block  and, 
as  they  stopped  at  a  corner,  caught  up  with  them. 
He  said  to  Vir:  "Say,  what  are  you  doing  out  here 
at  this  time  of  night?" 

The  question  surely  provoked  a  satirical  answer, 
and  Vir  thought  of  saying:  "We  are  somnambulists," 
but  for  fear  of  the  effect  of  that  word  on  so  intelli- 
gent an  executive  he  refrained  lest  he  be  accused 
of  assaulting  an  officer.  The  answer  given  was  to 
the  effect  that  they  were  indulging  in  the  dangerous 
pastime  of  walking  from  her  house  to  Lynn  for  the 
reason  that  they  couldn't  ride,  there  being  nothing 
on  which  to  ride. 

It  was  a  long  six  miles,  but  a  joyful  one,  at  least 
for  Vir,  for  he  was  alone  with  the  girl  of  his  heart. 
Soon  the  environs  of  Lynn  came,  and  then  the  shoe 
factories,  the  Common,  City  Hall  Square,  Market 
Street,  Munroe  Street  and  Central  Square.  There 
they  found  the  Waldorf  Lunch  open  and  refreshed 
themselves  both  by  resting  and  eating. 

"Isn't  Burrill's  month  up  in  a  week  now?"  asked 
Vir.  "Yes."  "Has  he  made  a  move  to  get  out?" 
"Not  any.  I  shall  not  return  to  the  house  till  I 
have  the  keys  he  now  has,  and  if  he  is  not  out  in  a 
few  days,  I'll  have  a  lawyer  see  to  it." 


FAREWELL  HELL  209 

"I  propose  this,  little  girl.  You  are  very  tired 
and  have  been  under  considerable  worry  and  care. 
You  need  rest.  I'll  go  with  you  to  your  lady 
friend's  in  Everett,  and  you  go  in  there,  pull 
the  curtains  down  and  go  to  sleep,  forgetting  every- 
thing." "But  if  I  do  that  what  will  you  do?"  asked 
Dunora.  "I'll  go  up  to  my  room,  try  to  sleep  for 
an  hour  and  then  I'll  feel  all  made  anew.  Now  will 
you  do  it?"  "Yes,  thank  you,  I  will."  They  took 
the  early  electrics  a  little  later  in  the  morning  and 
went  to  Chelsea  Square  where  they  changed  for  the 
Everett  cars,  and  Vir  left  her  at  the  cottage  door 
again.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  city  and  to  his  room 
where  he  soon  tumbled  beneath  the  bed  clothes  and 
all  but  fell  asleep. 

They  had  agreed  to  meet  again  the  next  afternoon, 
and  he  was  to  call  for  her  at  the  cottage  door.  Be- 
fore the  appointed  hour  he  was  there  and  before  the 
appointed  hour  she  saw  him  from  within  and  she 
came  out.  "Let's  go  to  a  moving  picture  theater 
and  forget  all  excitement,"  he  suggested,  and  she 
smilingly  assented  with:  "That  is  just  what  I  should 
like  to  do."  So  to  a  theater  near  at  hand  they 
went. 

Two  or  three  days  more  passed,  during  which  they 
met  daily,  each  day  lessening  the  stay  of  Burrill  in 
the  house  of  Dunora.  On  the  third  day  after  going 
to  the  theater  Dunora  told  Vir  that  she  might  have 
need  of  him  again  before  the  week  was  out.  Finally 
the  last  day  on  which  Burrill  could  stay  in  the 
house  came.  Dunora  found  out  by  inquiry  that  he 
was  still  there. 

During  quite  a  time  past  Dunora  had  clung  to 
the  hope  that  Burrill  would  not  act  so  inhumanely  as 


210     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

to  cause  her  to  even  cease  to  consider  him  a  friend. 
Because  of  this  thought  she  had  endured  some  de- 
privations she /would  not  otherwise  have  endured, 
such  as  that  scene  in  which  Leavitt  was  the  chief 
brute,  for  Burrill  had  helped  her  to  find  Irene  some- 
time since.  Consequently  she  hoped  he  wouldn't  be- 
come as  bad  as  he  did  become,  but  now  that  he  had 
she  was  determined  to  get  him  out  of  her  house 
forever. 

On  this  last  day  to  which  he  had  paid  rent  Dun- 
ora  and  Vir  met  by  appointment,  and  Dunora  said, 
"Vir,  I  want  you  to  come  out  to  the  town  with  me. 
I'm  going  to  get  Burrill  out  of  that  house."  Dun- 
ora's  lady  friend  was  with  her.  "We  will  all  three 
go  out,"  added  Dunora.  In  an  hour  they  were  there 
and  went  in  sight  of  the  house  and  saw  that  Bur- 
rill was  there. 

Dunora  had  a  strange  and  unusual  independence 
with  which  Vir  learned  not  to  interfere.  Often  he 
just  ached  to  do  things  according  to  his  own  will 
and  not  hers,  but  in  deference  to  her  he  yielded  his 
will.  In  spite  of  the  education  and  experience  he 
had  he  became  willing  to  admit  that  in  many  things 
Dunora's  judgment  was  superior.  It  hurt  his  pride 
to  admit  this,  but  he  had  to  if  he  would  be  honest 
with  himself.  In  the  case  just  then  Dunora  led  him 
to  do  just  the  opposite  to  what  he  would  have  done 
himself. 

He  would  have  gone  down  to  the  house  with 
Dunora  as  her  protector,  that  was  his  place  to  be, 
but  Dunora  would  not  listen  to  it  this  time.  "If  you 
had  not  stopped  off  at  the  house  with  me  that  night 
I  would  have  had  nothing  more  to  do  with  you.  I 
tried  to  get  you  to  go  on  in  the  car,  but  I  am  very 


FAREWELL  HELL  211 

glad  you  didn't.  But  to-day  is  different.  I  will 
take  my  lady  friend  with  me  and  it  is  broad  day- 
light. Burrill  is  alone,  and  even  if  he  wanted  to  he 
wouldn't  dare  to  try  to  do  anything  when  I  had  a 
witness  with  me.  We  two  will  go  down  and  I'll  just 
formally  demand  him  to  leave.  If  he  doesn't  I'll 
need  you  to  do  something  for  me." 

Dunora  and  Mrs.  Fuller  ascended  the  steps  to 
Dunora's  bungalow  and  Dunora  inserted  her  key 
and  unlocked  the  door.  Through  the  open  door  at 
the  rear  of  the  hall  they  looked  into  the  kitchen  and 
saw  Burrill  sitting  there,  legs  crossed,  scowling, 
with  the  stub  of  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  When  he  saw 
Mrs.  Fuller  he  scowled  the  more  deeply.  He  arose 
and  came  toward  them.  Dunora's  face  was  a  study. 
Mrs.  Fuller  had  seen  Burrill  several  times  before, 
and  her  opinion  of  him  was  not  high,  neither  was 
his  of  her. 

"Mr.  Burrill,"  said  Dunora,  in  that  low,  soft  voice 
that  would  be  a  blessing  in  a  sick  room  as  it  was 
in  every  day  life,  "I  have  more  than  once  asked  you 
to  vacate  this  house  which  is  mine,  and  you  know  me 
well  enough  to  know  that  the  time  for  idling  about 
my  request  is  past.  You  paid  rent  in  advance  or  I 
would  have  had  you  out  of  here  before  this,  but  now 
the  time  has  arrived  when  your  rent  no  longer  is  in 
advance.  I  demand  these  premises  to-day!" 

Burrill  gutturaled:  "I  see  you  have  brought  your 
friend.  What  is  it,  do  you  want  a  witness?" 
"Possibly.  But  what  I  do  want  is  for  you  to  leave 
at  once  and  I  intend  to  have  you  do  it.  Now  once 
more  I  demand  these  premises !" 

"Aw,  come  into  the  parlor  and  get  rid  of  your 
friend,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  alone.  I'm  not  going 


212      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

to  discuss  my  affairs  before  any  one  else !"  exclaimed 
Burrill.  "If  you  want  to  discuss  anything  with  me 
you're  going  to  discuss  it  right  here,"  said  Dunora, 
with  a  look  about  her  eyes  and  mouth  which  he  knew 
how  to  interpret. 

Then  he  put  on  a  hurt  tone.  "Oh,  Dunora,  be 
sensible.  Think  what  I've  done  for  you  and  what  I 
can  do  for  you.  You've  got  this  house  on  your 
hands  and  you  want  me  to  get  out  now  when  it's 
winter.  You  can't  rent  it  again  this  winter,  and 
you  can't  afford  to  lose  the  rent  on  it."  He  put 
his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew  out  a  roll  of  bills. 
"Here's  the  rent  three  months  in  advance.  Come, 
be  sensible." 

Dunora's  alert  mind  had  the  happy  faculty  of 
being  able  to  picture  all  sides  of  a  question  at  once. 
She  saw  the  home  this  man  had  furnished,  how  he 
had  helped  her  in  a  number  of  ways  and  had  kept 
the  house  in  food.  She  saw  the  possibility  of  an 
empty  house  on  her  hands  in  winter  and  the  addi- 
tional financial  burden  it  would  be.  Vividly  before 
her  eyes  in  that  moment  succeeding  his  flashing  the 
roll  of  bills  came  what  it  would  mean  to  her  to  do 
as  she  purposed  to  do.  On  the  one  hand  was  that 
house,  the  first  roof  over  her  head  which  she  could 
call  her  own,  well  furnished,  heated,  supplied  with 
food  and  the  rent  paid.  Every  week  there  would 
be  a  salary  coming  to  her,  and  she  would  not  need. 
But  if  she  insisted  on  his  going  it  meant  that  that 
roof  then  over  her  head  must  be  denied  her.  It 
meant  that  after  a  long  time  of  sufficiency  of  money 
and  food  she  must  again  face  want  and  hunger,  and 
that  she  must  again  go  to  work,  if  she  could  find  any. 
It  meant  she  must  go  to  a  hired  room.  And  in  addi- 


FAREWELL  HELL  213 

tion  to  supporting  herself  again  in  the  heartless 
world  she  must  face  the  additional  burden  of  pay- 
ing monthly  on  an  empty  house. 

"Come,"  he  repeated,  "here  are  three  months  in 
advance !"  "Mr.  Burrill,  I  am  not  parading  before 
my  friend  the  misery  through  which  you  have  put  me, 
making  me  the  nervous  invalid  I  am.  You  know  how 
I  have  clung  to  a  hopeless  situation  hoping  you 
would  reform.  You  know  I  have  never  done  you  a 
wrong.  In  return  you  bring  out  your  drunken 
friends  to  insult  and  try  to  injure  me.  Only  recently 
did  I  learn  where  you  got  your  income.  I  have  told 
no  one,  but  you  know  me  too  well  to  think  that  I 
would  ever  accept  another  dollar  from  you.  I  am 
not  here  to  bandy  words.  I  order  you  to  leave  this 
house!" 

Burrill  flew  into  a  rage.  "By  God!"  he  yelled, 
"it's  a  good  thing  you  brought  your  witness  with  you 
or  I'd  knock  your  head  off!  Damn  you!  You 
think  you'll  get  me  out  of  this  house,  do  you?  Well, 
you  won't !" 

Dunora  made  no  sign  of  emotion,  but  turned  to 
Mrs.  Fuller  and  said,  "Come  with  me !"  They  walked 
out  and  went  to  Vir. 

With  the  impatience  of  a  panther  at  bay,  Vir 
Noble  waited  for  the  return  of  the  two.  Soon  they 
came.  Dunora  was  very  calm.  "You  should  have 
seen  him.  He  was  very  angry  That's  why  I  didn't 
want  you  to  come,  for  he  would  have  flown  into  a 
passion.  As  it  was  he  refused  to  leave  and  said,  'It's 
a  good  thing  you  brought  this  girl  with  you,  for  I'd 
just  like  to  break  you  to  pieces.' 

"Now,  Vir,  I  want  you  to  telephone  the  constable 
of  this  town  for  me  and  ask  him  to  meet  me  at  the 


214     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

house  in  fifteen  minutes.  We  will  wait  here  till  about 
that  time,  and  then  walk  down  together."  Vir  tele- 
phoned, and  the  constable  replied  that  he  would  be 
there  at  the  time  mentioned.  They  went  down  when 
the  time  came,  and  Dunora  and  the  constable  went  to 
the  house  and  rang  the  bell.  Burrill  came  to  the 
door  and  the  constable  displayed  his  authority  and 
demanded  his  vacating.  Burrill  replied:  "You  go 

to !"     With  that  they  grappled  and  rolled  onto 

the  piazza,  where  the  constable  mastered  him.  He 
was  carried  into  court  and  there  put  out  on  bail  with 
the  words  that  if  he  was  seen  near  that  house  again 
his  bail  would  be  considered  forfeited.  The  neigh- 
bors were  all  notified  to  telephone  in  if  Burrill  was 
seen  in  that  locality  again.  Thus  was  the  exit  of 
Burrill. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

GLORY  ADVANCES 

UP  in  his  lonely  room  in  Boston  where  he  was 
accustomed  to  spend  his  idle  hours  in  writing 
Vir  sat  subsequent  to  the  occurrence  just  mentioned. 
He  was  buried  in  thought,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
that  thought  centered  about  Dunora.  On  a  sudden 
the  telephone  bell  above  his  head  rang.  Who  could 
be  telephoning  to  him  there?  No  one  ever  did  be- 
fore. 

He  arose,  pushed  aside  his  chair,  stepped  to  the 
telephone  and  called,  "Hullo !  Hullo !"  "Is  that  you, 
Vir?"  came  over  the  wire  in  a  voice  he  instantly  rec- 
ognized. Hallelujah!  It  was  Dunora!  Instantly 
that  room  received  a  flood  of  light  radiated  from 
even  the  voice  of  Dunora.  How  often  he  had  tossed 
on  that  bed  oblivious  of  his  surroundings  and  mind- 
ful only  of  Dunora.  At  this  time  when  the  voice  of 
Dunora  made  inquiry  if  that  was  Vir  he  responded 
with  gladness,  "Yes." 

There  was  a  little  hesitation  before  she  spoke 
again.  "Vir,  I  am  over  in  Everett  in  the  cottage 
where  you  have  been  to  the  door.  My  friend  and  I 
are  all  alone.  Mrs.  Fuller's  husband  isn't  here,  and 
you  know  I  am  not  very  fond  of  him.  I'm  lonely,  and 
you  may  come  over  if  you  wish.  Will  you?" 

Would  he?    He  surely  would.    He  forgot  himself 
215 


216      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

and  answered:  "You  bet  I  will!"  He  hung  up  the 
receiver  with  emphasis  and  rushed  downstairs  and 
ran  to  the  elevated  railroad  station  in  such  haste 
that  passersby  turned  and  looked.  But  he  cared 
not  for  what  others  thought  of  him,  he  was  going  to 
Dunora,  and  that  is  all  of  which  he  thought. 

After  climbing  the  stairs  to  the  elevated  railroad 
platform  it  seemed  that  a  Washington  Street  train 
would  never  come.  Finally  it  did,  and  then  it 
seemed  to  creep  through  the  tunnel  and  even  slower 
to  the  Charlestown  bridge  where,  of  course,  the  draw 
was  open  and,  of  course,  it  was  open  a  long  time. 
The  soliloquys  of  Vir  would  have  made  interesting 
reading. 

At  length  even  the  draw  closed  and  the  train  went 
on  to  Sullivan  Square,  where  there  was  another  wait 
for  a  surface  car,  and  another  crowd  through  which 
to  push.  But  even  such  delayed  journeys  have  their 
happy  ending,  and  Vir  arrived  at  the  desired  street 
and  came  to  Mrs.  Fuller's  cottage,  and — oh,  joy — 
Dunora  opened  the  door. 

"What  made  you  so  long?  You  didn't  seem  in  a 
hurry  to  get  here/'  stated  Dunora.  Vir,  confused  as 
he  was,  told  an  untruth  which  he  didn't  mean  as  such. 
He  should  have  stated  that  the  train  was  delayed, 
but  instead  he  blurted  out:  "Oh,  I  stopped  to  get  a 
little  dinner."  Possibly  it  may  be  said  to  his  shame 
that  he  did  not  desire  Dunora  to  know  that  he  hur- 
ried on  all  but  wings  to  get  where  he  knew  the  glory 
of  his  life  would  advance. 

They  went  into  the  parlor  of  the  little  cottage 
and  there  Vir  was  alone  with  the  girl  of  his  heart 
and  alone  where  they  were  not  under  the  stress  of 
anticipated  strife.  Already  Vir  was  more  than 


GLORY  ADVANCES  217 

shown  how  much  he,  the  man  who  had  worked  for 
everything  he  had  attained,  was  becoming  dependent 
upon  this  girl  of  heroic  nature  for  the  bringing  to 
life  and  upbuilding  of  many  qualities  in  him  the  ex- 
istence of  which  he  had  only  dreamed.  No  clinging 
parasite  of  a  vine  was  this  girl,  no  sapper  of  the 
blood  of  ambition  and  all  desire  to  struggle  upward. 

And  as  Vir  saw  very  plainly  that  she  was  one  who 
would  require  only  the  best  in  him  he  began  to  fear 
her.  But  this  is  not  as  blameworthy  as  it  seems. 
He  feared  only  lest  he  fail  to  come  up  to  her  stand- 
ard and  lest,  failing  to  do  so,  he  should  grow  to  put 
out  on  her  his  deepest  love  for  that  would  mean  his 
very  self.  And  if  once  that  love  wound  its  tentacles 
around  Dunora  he  knew  that  she  would  have  in  her 
absolute  possession  the  power  to  make  him  all  that 
it  was  possible  to  make  of  him  or  the  power  to  throw 
him  to  the  direct  opposite.  Knowing  this,  therefore, 
he  began  to  fear  her.  He  feared  to  let  go  the  re- 
straint on  love. 

Oh,  what  a  joy  as  he  sat  in  that  little  parlor! 
Dunora  drew  up  a  great  chair  beside  him  and  they 
talked  freer  than  ever  before.  In  the  restaurants 
or  in  the  theaters  there  is  a  restraint  and  on  the 
streets  thoughtful  conversation  is  not  easy.  He 
grasped  her  hand  with  an  added  fervor,  she  looked 
into  his  eyes  with  a  closeness  never  reached  before. 

There  are  times  when  speech  is  a  profanation, 
when  silence  speaks.  As  long  as  Vir  lives  that  hour 
in  the  cottage  at  Everett  will  live  also.  Being  tired 
of  sitting  they  arose  and  walked  to  the  center  of  the 
room.  There  they  stood  and  their  bodies  touched. 
At  once  over  Vir  there  swept  a  wave  of  unbridled 
emotion.  His  self  restraint  all  but  broke  and  he  al- 


218     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

most  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  crushed  her  to  his 
breast  which  longed  to  harbor  her. 

The  remainder  of  that  hour  so  happy  for  Vir  was, 
on  his  part,  surely  a  struggle  not  to  go  over  the  brink 
of  restraint.  His  lonely  life  at  last  finding  its  mate 
and  that  mate  far  from  knowing  it  made  it  a  very 
difficult  matter  not  to  overdo.  So  many  years  had 
seen  self  repression  that  with  happiness  in  his  grasp 
he  longed  to  close  his  hand  on  it. 

She  was  coy.  She  dangled  him  as  a  fish  on  a  line 
and  he  just  loved  to  hold  her  in  his  vision.  What 
talking  they  did  was  mostly  irrelevant  to  any  defi- 
nite purpose  at  first.  Mrs.  Fuller  busied  herself 
about  the  kitchen  so  that  if  they  wished  to  keep  their 
conversation  private  they  might  do  so.  As  their 
talking  progressed  Vir  asked  her  what  she  planned 
to  do.  She  was  receiving  no  income  from  her  house 
now  and  its  monthly  expenses  were  accruing  just 
the  same.  He  surmised  that  her  income  was  not 
excessive. 

"I  hardly  know  my  plans  now.  I  have  no  great 
responsibilities  so  can  do  some  things  which  I  could 
not  if  I  had  those  I  had  formerly.  I  suppose  I  will 
hire  a  room  somewhere  until  I  rent  my  house,  but  I 
confess  I  do  not  want  to  rent  it.  It  is  the  first  roof 
I  ever  had  over  my  head  which  I  could  call  my  own 
and  I  very  much  dislike  the  idea  of  giving  it  up  for 
another  to  occupy.  But  I  don't  see  anything  else 
to  do."  "I  have  a  suggestion,"  said  Vir.  "I  have 
nothing  to  work  for  except  an  indefinite  selfish  fu- 
ture. Any  future  planned  entirely  by  one's  self  is 
selfish  no  matter  how  lofty  the  plans.  Those  plans 
must  necessarily  be  thought  of  in  connection  with 
one's  individual  future.  I  want  to  plan  for  another. 


GLORY  ADVANCES  219 

It  will  broaden  me  and  I  can  well  afford  to  be  broad- 
ened. It  will  also  give  me  an  added  incentive  to  work 
and  that  means  success.  In  plain  words  I  hope  you 
will  let  me  keep  the  expenses  of  that  house  paid  until 
some  other  means  of  doing  it  appears.  I  can  at 
least  pay  the  expenses  till  it  is  again  occupied." 

"Why,  Vir,  why  did  you  ask  me  that?  You  knew 
I  wouldn't  say  'Yes,'  or  even  entertain  such  a 
thought.  There  is  no  telling  what  good  fortune  may 
come  to  me  soon  and  in  the  meantime  I  will  keep  it 
running.  Even  if  I  wanted  to  it  would  be  difficult  to 
rent  it  at  this  season.  I  cannot  endure  the  thought 
of  any  one  else  living  in  that  house."  It  may  be 
added  that  Vir  could  not  endure  any  other  thought 
than  their  both  living  therein,  but  the  time  was  not 
then  ripe.  Oh,  that  it  had  been ! 

The  girl  added,  "To-morrow  I  will  have  to  go  out 
to  it  to  see  what  it  looks  like  after  the  former  occu- 
pant left.  If  you  wish  to  you  may  go  out  with  me." 
"With  exceeding  pleasure,"  said  Noble.  Then  in  the 
quiet  of  that  little  room  where  the  sanctity  of  her 
presence  was  Vir  inwardly  resolved  to  make  every  ef- 
fort to  rise  to  the  requirements  which  this  noble  girl 
set  before  herself  as  the  prerequisites  of  manhood. 

The  next  day,  early  in  the  forenoon,  they  met 
again  and  went  to  her  bungalow.  For  the  first  time 
they  entered  it  with  no  cloud  in  the  nearby  sky  and 
their  hearts  were  light.  But  what  a  sight  met  their 
gaze  as  they  opened  the  door  and  went  within.  The 
house  was  absolutely  bare,  even  Dunora's  desk,  for- 
merly in  the  corner  of  the  parlor,  was  gone.  All 
that  remained  were  the  four  bare  walls  to  each  room. 
But  the  downstairs  floors  were  far  from  bare.  The 
earmarks  of  debauchery  were  in  many  places. 


220     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

In  front  of  the  once  tidy  fireplace  in  the  parlor 
were  scores  of  burnt  matches,  and  in  the  middle  of 
that  parlor  floor  was  a  great  burned  spot  where 
some  ruffian,  untouched  by  the  sanctity  of  that 
blessed  institution  home,  had  cast  a  lighted  match.  It 
was  only  by  God's  providence  and  not  because  of  the 
brute's  forethought  that  that  dear  house  did  not 
have  a  conflagration.  So  much  do  human  dogs 
think  of  a  woman  of  honor  who  put  her  money  into 
a  home  instead  of  riotous  living.  "Cast  not  your 
pearls  before  swine." 

All  through  the  lower  part  of  the  house  beer, 
whiskey  and  gin  bottles  were  scattered  and  another 
burning  match  had  been  cast  on  the  hardwood  kit- 
chen floor.  Outside  one  of  the  kitchen  windows  the 
cement  side  of  the  house  was  stained  where  food  had 
been  emptied. 

In  the  cellar  was  another  sight  for  broken  liquor 
bottles  were  in  various  places  and  in  one  part  was 
Dunora's  desk,  the  only  piece  of  furniture  belonging 
to  her  which  had  been  in  the  house,  broken  to  pieces 
by  an  axe,  a  favor  shown  by  Burrill  and  his  pals  to 
the  struggling  girl.  Certainly  liquor  is  a  great 
promoter  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness. 

As  they  were  in  the  cellar  surveying  the  wreckage 
there  came  to  Vir's  mind  the  words  of  the  Master 
of  men,  and  Vir,  looking  into  the  eyes  of  Dunora 
and  sweeping  his  arm  in  a  gesture  over  the  scene  on 
the  cellar  floor  remarked,  "By  their  fruits  ye  shall 
know  them." 

Then  they  both  proceeded  to  clean  the  house  from 
the  upper  story  to  the  cellar.  Every  nook  and  cor- 
ner, every  cranny  and  crevice,  every  crack  and  ori- 
fice was  brushed  and  cleaned  with  a  neatness  and 


GLORY  ADVANCES  221 

thoroughness  which  bespoke  their  interest  in  that 
bungalow  and  their  desire  to  erase  from  it  every  sign 
of  the  former  occupancy. 

Vir  carefully  picked  up  every  burned  match  and 
every  piece  of  the  burned  wood  which  fell  off  from 
the  matches.  The  assiduity  with  which  he  swept  up 
every  particle  of  those  wooden  igniters  revealed  his 
dislike  for  the  character  who  had  lived  there.  While 
they  were  engaged  in  cleaning  Vir  had  the  first  op- 
portunity to  observe  how  Dunora  worked  and  it 
was  both  a  pleasant  and  an  unpleasant  revelation 
to  him.  It  was  pleasant  as  it  showed  her  to  be  an 
indefatigable  worker  and  unpleasant  because  he 
feared  lest  she  work  so  hard  as  to  injure  herself. 

"Dunora,  I  never  saw  such  a  worker  as  you  are 
in  all  my  life.  You  went  at  the  cleaning  of  this  house 
just  as  I  noticed  you  have  gone  at  other  matters, 
as  if  you  really  meant  it  and  forgot  everything  else 
at  the  time." 

"Let's  enjoy  looking  over  the  house,  as  it  is  now 
clean,"  laughed  Dunora,  evading  his  remark. 

And  this  is  what  Vir  saw.  As  he  entered  he  came 
into  a  cosy  hall  with  hardwood  floor  and  ample  stairs 
rising  spirally  to  the  second  floor.  These  were  all 
finished  in  hardwood  as  well.  To  the  left  of  the 
dainty  hall  opened  a  door  into  the  sunlit  parlor  and 
in  the  inner  corner  of  the  parlor  was  a  fireplace.  A 
bay  window  on  the  southern  side  of  the  house  re- 
vealed a  view  of  distant  hill  and  pleasant  field  at  the 
farther  end  of  which  were  other  houses.  The  front 
window  in  that  parlor  gave  an  entrancing  view  of 
open  woods  rising  to  gently  sloping  heights. 

Through  a  broad  double  door  one  entered  the  din- 
ing room  with  plate-rail  and  china  closet  and  ample 


222     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

light  from  windows  opening  toward  the  south  and 
west.  Then  the  cosiest  of  kitchens  opened  from  the 
northern  side  of  the  dining  room  and  connected  the 
dining  room  and  front  hall.  A  pantry  where  every 
inch  was  made  practical  extended  from  the  western 
end  of  the  kitchen,  and  beside  it  was  the  back  hall 
opening  onto  a  sunny  western  porch. 

Up  the  spiral  stairs  were  the  upper  hall,  bath 
room  and  bed  rooms  where,  through  some  window, 
the  sun  could  shine  all  day.  It  was  a  house  of  sun, 
a  house  where  shadows  had  been,  but  where  the  sun 
was  rapidly  pushing  all  shadows  away.  Its  wide  and 
hospitable  windows  spread  their  breadth  in  invit- 
ing the  sun's  rays  within  and  seemed  to  smile  upward 
as  the  sun  kissed  them.  The  glory  of  the  lamp  of 
nature  bathed  it  by  day  and  the  glory  of  the  silvery 
moon  laved  its  head  by  night.  Glory  shone  around 
and  through  it  and  glory  advanced  thereby. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

THE   PROPOSAL 

"C1NTRANCED  with  the  beauty  of  her  home  and 
J_J  with  the  views  of  nature  surrounding,  Vir  for  a 
moment  lapsed  into  pleasant  thought.  The  indirect 
influence  of  the  ceasing  of  the  previous  tension  also 
had  its  quieting  effect  upon  him.  They  were  both 
in  the  sunlit  dining  room  at  the  time. 

Within  his  breast  surged  the  ardent  fire  of  a  pas- 
sionate love.  This  he  had  never  yet  revealed  to  her 
by  any  word.  Through  his  mind  at  the  time  sped 
the  panorama  of  the  years,  the  biting  storms  of  a 
lonely  and  misread  life,  the  thrilling  experiences  of 
a  life  of  struggle.  And  associated  with  that  pas- 
sionate love  came  the  refining  feelings  of  a  great 
longing  for  the  cessation  of  that  selfish  contest  and 
a  renewing  of  the  struggle  of  life  for  the  sake  of  one 
more  worthy.  Oh,  the  years  through  which  he  had 
yearned  for  the  girl  now  before  him!  Oh,  the  mid- 
night hours  spent  in  dreaming  of  her  as  his  eyes  were 
wide  and  staring  into  the  future!  And  the  castles 
in  Spain  he  had  built  around  her  before  he  knew  her 
and  now  that  he  knew  her  those  castles  in  Spain  had 
become  real  castles  with  a  glory  far  exceeding  that 
surrounding  his  former  castles  in  the  air. 

All  this  went  through  his  mind  with  the  pulsing 
waves  of  his  mighty  passion  for  his  very  efforts  to 

223 


224     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

hold  it  in  check  but  dammed  it  up  till  it  rose  over 
the  obstruction  and  poured  in  a  wild  torrent  at  last 
free.  And  in  its  wild  rushing  over  the  dam  of  previ- 
ous restraint  Vir  Noble  was  himself  swept. 

He  turned.  Dunora  stood  at  the  window  and  at 
just  that  time  she  was  in  the  attitude  to  remove  even 
the  sand  riffs  that  might  impede  the  rushing  of  that 
deluge.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  and  filled  with  that  far- 
away, pained  look  which  had  gripped  his  heart  be- 
fore. Very  obviously,  in  the  time  in  which  Vir  had 
experienced  his  flood  of  passionate  thought,  Dunora 
had  flown  away  on  the  wings  of  reverie. 

Speech  came  to  Vir  in  a  mellow,  rich  and  sweet 
tone  which  he  had  never  heard  his  voice  give  forth 
before.  He  was  to  stand  before  that  noble  woman 
in  his  true  attitude  at  last,  in  the  attitude  of  a  pas- 
sionate lover,  of  a  reverential  and  humble  adorer. 

"Dunora!" 

With  a  start,  caused  by  her  coming  out  of  her 
reverie,  Dunora  turned  toward  Vir  and  though  her 
thoughts  had  been  far  flung  she  had  heard  and  had 
comprehended  that  mellow,  rich  and  sweet  resonance 
in  his  speech.  Therefore  she  advanced  toward  him 
with  the  sweetest  smile  that,  seemingly,  ever  basked 
upon  the  face  of  woman.  That  smile  of  blessing 
gave  him  courage.  It  grasped,  as  it  were,  his  hand 
and  led  his  faltering  steps  up  over  the  mountain  of 
his  own  unworthiness  which  loomed  in  dizzy  heights 
between  himself  and  her.  It  shone  upon  him  in  utter 
frankness  and  priceless  trust. 

In  that  moment  as  she  advanced  toward  him  he 
overpoweringly  comprehended  what  he  was  about  to 
do.  He  was  about  to  ask  her  a  question  upon  which 
more  hung  than  upon  any  other  question  his  lips 


THE  PROPOSAL  225 

could  ever  frame  on  earth.  It  was  a  question  he 
had  never  framed  before,  and  therefore  one  that 
had  never  been  asked  by  him  of  any  other  woman. 
But  ask  it  he  must  and  those  trusting  eyes  backed 
up  by  that  previous  look  of  pain  impelled  him  on- 
ward in  addition  to  his  heart's  passion. 

"Dunora !" 

"What  is  it,  Vir?" 

"Oh,  Dunora,  I  cannot  keep  it  in  longer!  Oh, 
haven't  you  seen  it?  Haven't  you  felt  it?  It  mas- 
ters me !  Dunora — I — love — you.  I  confess  I  have 
fought  against  it,  but  its  very  insistency  proves  its 
truth.  I  love  you!  I  adore  the  ground  you  walk 
on,  the  air  you  breathe.  I  reverence  the  roof  that 
protects  you  and,  oh,  Dunora,  with  all  the  passion 
of  my  being,  with  all  the  strength  within  me  I  pray 
with  beseeching  words  to  become  your  real  protector, 
to  work  for  you  and  because  of  you.  I  love  you !  I 
— love — you !"  He  threw  back  his  head  and  his  eyes 
flashed  the  absolute  sincerity  of  his  soul. 

"Will  you  be  my  wife?" 

The  look  of  surprise  which  began  to  dawn  on 
Dunora's  dear  face  as  soon  as  the  meaning  of  Vir's 
impassioned  words  appeared,  soon  broadened  and,  a 
moment  after  he  had  asked  her  the  momentous  ques- 
tion she  came  right  to  him,  held  him  direct  in  her 
gaze  and  said,  "Why,  Vir,  you  have  surprised  me.  I 
hadn't  thought  of  your  looking  at  our  friendship 
in  that  way."  In  that  instant  Vir  knew  that  though 
his  heart  was  filled  with  love  the  sacred  fire  was  not 
thus  with  her.  She  continued,  "You  have  asked  me 
the  most  precious  question  you  could  ask  me  and  I 
will  answer  you  fully  but  not  now.  We  will  go  back 
to  my  room  and  you  can  leave  me  there  to-night  and 


226     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

come  out  there  to-morrow  forenoon  and  I  will  give 
you  your  answer.'* 

A  feeling  of  sacredness  came  over  them  both  and 
conversation  was  not  much  indulged  in  on  the  re- 
turn journey  to  Dunora's  room.  With  Vir  great 
wonder  strove  to  obtain  the  mastery  over  great  un- 
certainty. At  the  cottage  house  Vir  said,  "Good 
night,"  with  trembling  lips  and  she,  out  of  the  good- 
ness of  her  heart,  held  his  hand  long  in  her  tender 
grasp.  He  went  to  Boston  and  she  to  her  room 
to  be  alone. 

Alone  to  think.  That  was  certainly  not  strange, 
one  always  thinks,  but  the  object  of  those  thoughts. 
A  proposal,  why  that  is  not  strange  either.  What 
girl  over  fifteen  hasn't  thought  over  a  proposal?  But 
one  from  this  man.  Dunora  was  thinking  about  Vir 
and  what  he  had  asked  her  to  become.  His  wife. 
She  had  heard  several  men  say  almost  those  same 
words  before.  Her  answer  had  always  been,  no. 
Why  did  she  hesitate  to  say  no  this  time?  Dunora 
knew  not. 

This  girl,  who  had  cared  for  herself  since  early 
womanhood,  who  had  lived  almost  always  alone,  con- 
fiding in  no  one,  was  lonely.  Who  knows  that  dread- 
ful feeling,  tearing  of  the  heart,  making  that  heart 
harder  and  colder.  If  you  have  not  you  cannot 
know  why  Dunora  was  thinking  so  very  much  about 
what  Vir  had  said.  A  strong,  young,  good  looking, 
educated  and  perhaps  talented  man  had  offered  to 
care  for  her,  was  anxious  to,  deemed  it  an  honor. 
Who  had  ever  wanted  to  just  care  for  and  love  her 
before  ?  No  one.  What  would  life  with  this  man  mean 
to  this  lonely  girl?  She  dared  not  think.  All  these 
questions  were  asked  of  herself. 


THE  PROPOSAL  227 

What  did  she  know  of  him?  What  she  saw.  A 
man,  tall  and  as  straight  as  an  arrow,  powerful  and 
strong.  He  had  not  what  would  be  called  a  hand- 
some face,  but  a  face  that  one  instantly  trusted  for 
its  honesty;  the  beautiful,  large,  frank  brown  eyes 
compelled  you  to  trust.  Firm,  almost  stern,  were 
the  lines  about  his  mouth,  chin  as  determined  as  our 
Puritan  ancestors.  The  face  even  when  most  deter- 
mined was  like  sunshine,  the  eyes  were  so  filled  with 
laughter.  An  excellent  disposition,  but  not  perfect. 

Dunora  was  looking  for  perfection.  She  knew 
little  of  the  Bible  so  knew  not  that  perfection  does 
not  belong  to  this  world. 

In  some  ways  Vir  seemed  selfish  to  her.  That  she 
always  despised  in  any  one.  He  seemed  too  con- 
ceited as  though  he  expected  to  get  just  what  he 
asked  for,  even  her.  Were  these  thoughts  just  a 
shadow  of  her  lonely,  hateful  life?  If  these  faults 
were  not  there  would  she  say  yes  to  Vir? 

A  picture  of  that  horrible  marriage  of  that  happy 
school  girl  of  fifteen  came  before  her  eyes,  she  shud- 
dered. Her  face  became  lined  with  pain.  She  looked 
years  older.  They  seemed  too  deep  to  ever  come 
off.  What  spirit  within  was  strong,  great  enough 
to  carry  those  lines  away? 

Another  picture,  a  beautiful  one,  a  baby  girl  with 
golden  curls.  A  face  one  could  mistake  for  a  stray 
sunbeam  came  before  her  eyes.  How  strangely  that 
face  looked  like  the  face  of  Dunora.  A  tear  fell,  an- 
other, another,  a  flood  of  them,  the  gathering  storm 
had  burst  in  all  its  fury.  The  calm  came,  the  lines 
disappeared  like  magic.  Dunora  knew  her  answer 
to  Vir  Noble,  the  most  priceless  question  an  hon- 
orable man  can  ask  a  good  woman. 


228     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

Those  two  words,  "until  death,"  uttered  so  long 
ago,  by  that  minister,  had  sunken  into  her  very  soul. 

But  she  must  explain  to  Vir.  Their  friendship 
made  that  necessary.  Could  she  give  up  happi- 
ness, could  she  take  happiness  away  from  him,  could 
she  look  at  those  honest  brown  eyes  and  explain? 
Yes,  she  must.  She  believed  in  duty,  and  never  did, 
and  never  would  turn  away  from  duty  as  she  saw 
it  no  matter  how  painful  the  task. 

Vir  went  to  his  room  and  speedily  went  to  sleep 
with  pleasant  dreams  of  Dunora.  His  was  the  in- 
ward feeling  that  she  would  not  refuse  the  offer. 
Even  if  she  did  not  love  him  he  felt  that  she  would 
not  refuse  him.  What  little  he  knew  of  her  lonely 
life  and  what  he  actually  knew  of  her  need  of  a  home 
and  a  protector  persuaded  him  to  think  this.  Fur- 
thermore he  had  a  rather  good  opinion  of  himself, 
he  felt  that  in  offering  himself  to  her  he  had  greatly 
honored  her,  for  he  had  waited  many  years,  and  had 
never  made  that  offer  to  another  and  he  had  al- 
ways endeavored  to  conduct  his  life  as  a  man  should. 
Consequently  it  was  with  light  and  airy  step  that  he 
went  to  the  cottage  in  Everett. 

Dunora  opened  the  door  as  he  came  into  the  yard 
and  on  her  face  was  a  look  of  kindliness  which  all  the 
more  swelled  Vir's  sense  of  egotism.  Inwardly  he 
rejoiced  that  he  had  at  last  spoken  the  words  upon 
which  so  much  depended  and  which  his  assurance 
told  him  had  been  favorably  received. 

He  had  always  held  Dunora  in  such  reverence  that 
the  usual  method  of  love  making  had  not  been  the 
one  with  Vir.  Continually  a  sense  of  his  unfitness 
had  held  him  back  until  at  last  the  bursting  over 
of  the  dam  had  brought  with  its  flood  the  thoughts 


THE  PROPOSAL  229 

of  relief  and  assurance.  As  they  entered  Vir  looked 
at  Dunora  more  closely  and  then  noticed  dark  lines 
under  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Fuller  had  gone  and  the  two 
were  alone  in  the  cottage  to  talk  to  their  heart's  con- 
tent uninterrupted  by  listening  ears. 

As  they  went  into  the  little  parlor  Vir  grasped 
both  her  hands  and  he  looked  full  at  her.  For  a 
moment  her  great,  frank  eyes  fell  but  then  they 
lifted.  "Vir,  dear,  I  told  you  that  you  would  have 
your  answer  now.  You  shall.  It  has  to  be  no." 
She  disengaged  one  hand,  reached  behind  her  to  the 
table  and  drew  therefrom  a  framed  picture.  She 
held  it  out  toward  him  without  a  word.  Vir  gazed 
at  the  picture  of  a  little  girl. 

He  started,  gazed  at  it  more  fixedly.  Around  the 
little  head  curls  hung  and  the  sweet  child  face  was 
but  a  representation  of  what  Dunora  might  have 
been  as  a  child.  "What  a  charming  picture  of  you 
as  a  child.  But  what  does  that  have  to  do  with  the 
answer?  How  long  ago  was  that  taken?" 

A  look  indescribable  came  over  Dunora's  face. 
For  a  moment  she  hesitated,  then  said  slowly,  "It 
was  taken  three  years  ago !"  Vir  looked  at  her  non- 
plused. Then  he  gathered  his  faculties.  "Why, 
the  little  girl  looks  remarkably  like  you.  She  surely 
is  a  relative."  Again  Dunora  hesitated.  Then  she 
spoke  firmly.  "She  is  a  relative.  She  is  my 
daughter." 

A  fly  hitting  against  Vir  Noble  in  its  flight  would 
have  knocked  him  to  the  floor.  There  is  no  state- 
ment which  she  could  possibly  have  made  which 
would  have  dumbfounded  him  more.  In  all  his  life 
he  had  not  received  such  a  staggering  statement 
from  the  lips  of  any  human  being.  "She  is  my 


230     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

daughter."  Yes,  he  had  heard  aright.  Not  a  word 
came  to  him  to  say.  A  very  thunderbolt  had  smitten 
him. 

She  saw  the  look  of  wonder  and  of  mystification 
pass  over  his  face  and  she  cleared  the  latter  feeling 
by  uttering  four  words.  "I  have  been  married.  My 
name  is  not  Whitney  but  Boynton,  but  so  few  people 
know  that  I  have  been  married  that  I  go  by  my  for- 
mer name." 

Up  to  that  moment  Vir  Noble  had  no  more  idea 
that  that  young  girl  had  been  married  than  he 
would  have  had  of  permitting  an  own  daughter  of 
his  to  have  done  so  at  such  a  tender  age  as  he  reas- 
oned she  must  have  been  to  have  had  a  daughter  of 
the  age  shown  in  the  picture  added  to  the  three  years 
since  it  was  taken.  The  statement  completely  be- 
reft him  of  his  reasoning  faculties.  He  could  do 
nothing  but  suffer  a  whirl  of  imaginings  to  whirli- 
gig through  his  brain. 

In  the  instant  after  the  dear  girl  had  made  the 
double  declaration  Vir's  hand  had  gone  to  his  fore- 
head in  the  attitude  a  man  takes  when  suddenly 
struck  by  an  overwhelming  piece  of  news.  As  his 
hand  was  over  his  eyes  before  his  mental  vision  at 
last  came  the  explanation  for  at  least  part  of  that 
pained  and  far  away  expression  he  had  seen  de- 
picted on  her  features. 

Dunora  came  to  him  with  womankind's  tender 
mercy.  She  knew  the  severity  of  the  blow  she  had 
struck  but  she  had  struck  it  because  she  desired  to 
do  so.  She  prayed  in  her  heart  that  it  might  not  be 
a  blow  but  she  knew  full  well  that  it  would  be.  She 
had  been  asked  the  most  momentous  question  which 
could  possibly  be  asked  her  and  her  sense  of  duty 


THE  PROPOSAL  231 

made  her  make  a  full  and  frank  answer  and  this 
was  part  of  it. 

As  she  touched  Vir  with  her  body  she  put  her 
hands  on  his  shoulders  and  softly  said,  "Vir,  dear, 
come  to  the  sofa  and  we  will  sit  down  and  I  will  ex- 
plain. I  will  tell  you  what  has  never  crossed  my 
lips  before."  They  sat  on  the  cushioned  sofa.  For 
just  a  moment  Dunora  sat  buried  in  thought.  How 
should  she  begin?  Surely  from  the  very  beginning. 

And  from  her  earliest  infancy  she  told  the  story 
of  her  adoption  and  all  that  came  thereafter  in  the 
home  in  Gardiner,  of  her  school  days,  her  pranks, 
her  deprivations,  her  self  denials,  her  loveless  ex- 
istence finally  to  arrive  at  the  time  of  the  hideous 
travesty  caused  by  her  foster  parents*  heartlessness. 
"Oh,  Vir,"  she  exclaimed  in  the  agony  of  remem- 
brance, "just  think  of  it.  I  met  that  man  on  July 
fourth,  and  in  August  was  married  to  him.  And  I 
was  only  fifteen  years  of  age,  a  little  country  girl 
with  love  crushed  out  of  me  and  entirely  ignorant 
of  things  of  the  world  and  utterly  unknowing  any- 
thing at  all  of  the  meaning  of  marriage  in  even  one 
of  its  relations. 

"Oh,  Vir,  how  could  it  have  happened?  May  God 
forgive  them  as  I  do,  but  even  though  He  might  for- 
give them  He  did  not  remove  the  penalty.  They 
suffered  it.  Why,  if  that  man  had  come  to  my  father 
and  asked  him  for  my  father's  horse  for  nothing, 
my  father  would  have  kicked  him  out  of  the  house, 
but  when  he  asked  for  me  for  nothing  they  smiled 
on  him  with  pleasure  and  gave  me,  a  human  being,  to 
this  unknown  person  three  times  my  age. 

"He  might  have  had  a  wife  then.  They  didn't  ask 
him.  He  might  have  just  come  out  of  prison.  They 


232     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

didn't  ask  him.  He  might  have  been  a  murderer,  a 
thief,  a  forger,  an  immoral  and  diseased  worldling. 
They  didn't  ask  him."  And  then  her  little  body 
bent  and  she  sobbed. 

Vir,  during  this  recital,  had  listened  spellbound. 
He  had  grasped  every  word  as  a  pickerel  grasps  his 
food.  But  when  the  head  of  Dunora  fell  Vir  just 
let  all  restraint  go  and  put  his  arm  around  her  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  and  drew  her  to  him  and  Vir 
felt  the  sobs  grow  less  and  less. 

He  spoke  not,  but  as  the  exquisite  sensation  of 
having  her  so  close  to  him  thrilled  him  there  went 
through  his  mind  the  thought  of  the  great  honor  she 
had  conferred  upon  him  and  the  great  agony  it  must 
have  been  to  her  in  thus  baring  her  very  soul.  After 
they  had  thus  remained  in  silence  quite  a  time  each 
engaged  in  thought,  Vir  spoke. 

"Dunora,  what  has  that  to  do  with  the  question 
I  asked  you  yesterday?  What  you  have  told  me  but 
draws  me  the  more  closely  to  you,  and,  surely,  you 
are  not  married  to  that  person  now?" 

Through  her  inflamed  eyes  Dunora  looked  into 
his.  "No,  I  am  not  married  now ;  but,  Vir,  I  do  not 
love  you.  Love  is  of  slow  growth.  I  value  you  as 
a  friend  above  all  others,  but  I  do  not  love  you." 
What  had  transpired  had  subdued  Vir.  His  as- 
surance had  fled  quite  a  time  since.  Dunora,  ex- 
hausted by  the  recital  of  her  heart's  woe,  arose.  He 
also  did  and  the  girl  said,  "Vir,  dear,  I  must  ask 
to  be  excused  now  and  go  to  my  room  and  rest." 
She  paused.  "Vir,"  she  added,  "do  not  feel  badly 
at  what  I  have  said."  Again  she  paused.  She 
straightened  momentarily  and  lifted  her  head  so  as 
to  throw  up  her  Grecian  chin,  "Vir — be  a  man!" 


THE  PROPOSAL  233 

Low  he  bent  his  head.  Slowly  he  lifted  her  little 
hand  and  kissed  it.  She  passed  through  the  door 
and  went  up  the  stairs.  He  gathered  his  outer  gar- 
ments and  went  to  the  front  door  where,  to  his  aston- 
ishment, he  met  Mrs.  Fuller  entering. 

"How  do  you  do,  Vir?"  she  said.  Then  looking 
around  and  seeing  that  Dunora  was  not  present  she 
said  in  lower  tones,  "Dunora  tells  me  that  you  asked 
her  to  become  your  wife  and  that  she  was  to  give 
you  your  answer  to-day.  I  hope  it  was  a  favorable 
one."  "It  was  not,"  replied  Vir,  and  he  then  ex- 
cused himself  and  went  out  through  the  little  yard. 

Vir  went  to  his  office  much  more  slowly  than  he 
had  come  from  Boston  and  a  much  wiser  man  pos- 
sessing a  lesser  supply  of  egotism.  He  had  much 
to  think  over  and  no  business  was  done  by  him  that 
day.  The  last  few  hours  had  been  the  greatest 
shock  to  his  self  esteem  he  had  ever  experienced. 
He  had  been  with  Dunora  on  many  little  recrea- 
tions for  a  long  time,  he  had  disclosed  to  her  many 
things  about  himself  which  he  surely  thought  would 
impress  her  favorably.  Many  of  his  acts  for  the 
past  weeks  had  been  such  as  to  naturally  cause  her 
to  depend  upon  him  to  a  more  or  less  degree  and 
that  dependence  should  breed  trust  and  affection 
under  normal  conditions. 

But  Vir  Noble  had  much  to  learn  about  himself 
that  was  not  pleasing  to  his  vanity  and  this  great 
shock  was  the  first  earthquake  which  caused  part 
of  the  walls  of  his  castle  of  content  to  fall  in  ruins. 
As  never  before  he  began  to  search  himself.  And 
he  did  this  honestly.  This  wonderful  woman  had  re- 
fused the  greatest  offer  he  could  make  to  her  and 
refused  it  because  she  did  not  love  him. 


234      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

That  night  when  he  went  to  his  rooms,  now  all 
the  more  lonely,  he  humbled  himself  in  prayer.  He 
poured  out  his  heart  before  the  mercy  seat,  the  only 
place  where  he  could  pour  it  out,  and  he  asked  that 
he  be  shown  his  faults  and  be  given  the  courage  to 
overcome  them.  And  the  night  was  one  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

As  soon  as  he  deemed  it  expedient  on  the  follow- 
ing day  Vir  called  at  the  cottage  in  Everett  and 
again  was  with  the  girl  of  his  love,  again  to  take 
up  the  struggle  which  was  shown  to  be  needed  by 
her  parting  words  of  the  day  before :  "Vir — be  a 
man !"  They  started  anew  with  no  reference  to  the 
great  question  asked  by  Vir  and  just  discussed  by 
them  both.  Each  had  spoken,  each  understood. 

But  even  that  day,  the  very  following  one  after 
they  had  spoken,  Vir  noticed  a  deepening  of  the 
black  lines  under  Dunora's  eyes.  It  worried  him 
much.  Sleeplessness  had  been  the  dear  girl's  por- 
tion for  the  words  of  Vir  and  his  love  for  her  were 
not  matters  this  honest  and  true  girl  had  taken  in 
any  other  way  than  with  their  deepest  meaning. 
And  they  meant  very  much  to  her. 

As  often  as  business  permitted  and  very  often 
when  business  did  not  permit,  Vir  came  to  the  little 
cottage  in  Everett  to  be  with  Dunora.  Many  were 
the  occasions  on  which  they  went  to  various  restau- 
rants together,  and  frequently  to  the  theaters,  where 
Vir  sought  by  every  reasonable  means  to  lessen  those 
dark  lines  under  her  eyes,  but  to  no  avail.  Thinner 
and  thinner  she  got,  more  hollow  grew  her  cheeks 
and  more  nervous  she  became. 

Soon  after  their  talk  in  which  Dunora  let  out  the 
secret  of  her  heart  Vir  came  to  the  cottage  and 


THE  PROPOSAL  235 

found  with  Dunora  a.  little  sunny  haired  girl,  blue 
eyed,  laughing,  rosy  and  dear.  It  was  Irene.  How 
soon  his  heart  went  out  to  the  little  lass !  How  soon 
she  had  a  firm  hold  on  his  heartstrings!  She  was 
a  wonder  child  to  him,  part  of  the  girl  he  loved,  the 
rosy,  beautiful  flower  that  blossomed  from  her  for- 
mer pain. 

And  on  their  little  trips  together  to  nearby  places 
Irene  frequently  went  with  them.  Upon  these  oc- 
casions he  saw  the  wee  lassie  under  many  conditions 
which  would  be  trying  to  a  child's  heart,  but  he 
never  saw  her  show  temper  or  selfishness  or  say  once 
to  her  mother  "I  won't !"  In  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  away  from  her  mother  so  much  at  boarding 
school  she  was  the  most  perfectly  behaved  child  Vir 
had  ever  known  and  this  spoke  volumes  for  the 
mother  who  had  trained  her  under  such  trying  con- 
ditions and  with  such  a  load  on  her  heart.  And  be- 
cause of  Irene's  own  worth  she  took  deep  and  deeper 
hold  upon  Vir. 

In  some  of  the  days  that  came  Dunora  told  little 
tales  about  her  disposition  and  the  little  girl's  faith 
and  unselfishness.  "Irene  was  sick  with  the  scarlet 
fever  once  and  her  thoughts  were  continually  of  me 
and  not  of  herself.  I  overheard  her  praying  once 
and  her  prayer  was,  'Dear  God,  please  make  me 
well  soon,  for  my  mamma  hasn't  got  much  money  and 
can't  pay  doctor's  bills.*  At  another  time  Irene 
was  talking  to  some  women  and  remarked,  'When  I 
grow  up  I  want  to  be  like  my  mamma.'  Upon  being 
asked  her  reason  she  replied,  'Because  she  is  so 
good/  " 

In  spite  of  every  effort  on  Vir's  part  Dunora  did 
not  recover  from  her  nervous  attacks  or  from  her 


236      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

worried,  anxious  appearance.  How  fervently  he  be- 
sought Him  upon  the  Great  White  Throne  to  free 
her  from  her  affliction  in  His  own  good  way.  Dunora 
lived  during  the  weeks  intervening  till  Spring  at  Mrs. 
Fuller's.  Mrs.  Fuller  was  a  friend  to  both  and  in 
the  long  hours  of  the  nights  in  which  she  was  alone 
with  Dunora  she  talked  much  of  Vir  and  turned 
Dunora's  mind  more  and  more  in  his  direction. 
Dunora,  in  self  defense,  offered  objections  to  him 
and  Mrs.  Fuller  spoke  in  his  behalf.  And  all  the 
time  also  there  was  working  on  Dunora's  well  poised 
mind  the  evident  effort  on  Vir's  part  to  be  more 
such  as  she  desired. 

Higher  and  higher  arose  the  sun  as  the  weeks 
progressed  and  Boston's  streets  long  since  had  lost 
their  sparsely  scattered  snow  mounds.  The  great 
pulse  of  nature  began  to  throb  as  the  life  blood 
of  its  resurrection  began  to  course  through  the  veins 
of  old  earth.  The  bluebird  floated  down  from  the 
March  skies  bearing  on  his  back  the  blue  of  the 
heavens  to  wed  with  the  brown  of  the  earth  on  his 
breast.  And  among  those  who  strongly  felt  the  call 
of  nature  and  the  balmy  Spring  were  Dunora  and 
Vir.  In  it  they  saw  the  end  of  the  cold  and  dreary 
winter,  the  coming  of  warmth  and  growth. 

Naturally  the  mincls  of  both  went  to  the  cement 
bungalow  which  seemed  to  call  them  with  its  alluring 
persuasion  and  more  than  once  they  went  to  it.  The 
frost  had  melted  from  their  blood  and  the  vigor  of 
the  new  born  warmth  of  nature  flowed  therein.  They 
talked  less  and  less  of  personal  subjects,  possibly 
because  they  thought  more  of  them.  The  flowing  sap 
of  Spring  turns  human  hearts  to  love  and  more  and 


THE  PROPOSAL  237 

more  the  heart  of  Vir  with  difficulty  held  its  love  in 
restraint. 

That  dining  room  in  her  bungalow  brought  all 
the  more  vividly  to  his  mind  the  scene  when  in  that 
room  he  had  declared  his  love. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 

HOME 

O'er  earth's  wild  oceans  have  I  sailed 

In  search  of  earthly  bliss; 
On  field  and  plain,  through  wood  and  main, 

I've  sought  for  pleasure's  kiss. 

In  marts  of  men  where  worldlings  crowd, 

I've  searched  a  cure  for  pain ; 
In  college  academic  halls 

I've  looked  for  it  in  vain. 

But  ah !  Thank  God !  I've  found  at  last 
Where  bliss  and  pleasure  roam; 

'Tis  in  that  thricely  hallowed  spot 
Which  we  call  home,  sweet  home. 

DUNORA !"  Again  they  were  in  that  dining  room. 
Again  the  mellow,  sweet  and  rich  resonance  in 

Vir's  passionate  voice.  She  turned  toward  him  with  a 
different  expression  on  her  face  from  that  which 
had  been  visible  there  so  many  months  before.  Now 
she  knew  him  better,  understood  him  more.  "Oh, 
Dunora,  I  must  speak!  I  cannot  remain  silent 
longer!  I  must  ask  to  be  your  protector!  I  love 
you,  dear,  with  every  throb  which  gives  me  life! 
There  is  nothing  in  me  which  does  not  tremble  to  the 

238 


HOME  239 

very  thought  of  you!  I  have  kept  silent  all  these 
months  and  it  is  not  within  my  power  to  do  so  longer. 
There  is  nothing  visible,  nothing  thinkable  but  you ! 
Dunora,  again  I  ask  you,  Will  you  be  my  wife?" 

He  stood  before  her  thrilled  with  the  vehemence 
of  his  utterance  and  the  passion  of  his  soul.  The 
fire  of  an  intense  love  shone  from  his  eyes  and  lighted 
his  face.  He,  for  once,  was  radiant.  He  was  all 
anticipation  for  his  answer.  Gone  forever  was  his 
former  assurance.  He  was  sure  of  nothing  now  but 
that  he  loved  her  with  all  the  intensity  of  his  be- 
ing. He  spoke  humbly,  as  a  beggar. 

Dunora  bent  her  dear  curl  crowned  head  just  the 
smallest  trifle  with  that  unconscious  coquetry  which 
is  one  of  the  diadems  on  the  crown  of  womanhood. 
And  then  she  looked  at  him  a  little  bewildered  and 
astonished.  The  poor  girl  was  not  well  and  she  had 
not  expected  this  outburst  then.  And  she  looked 
up  and  down  at  the  form  of  the  big  strong  man  who 
had  asked  to  be  her  protector.  As  she  looked  at 
him  standing  there  she  realized  the  depth  of  his  de- 
votion and  she  knew  that  in  him  she  could  trust. 
Other  thoughts  went  through  her  mind  at  that  mo- 
ment of  rapid  mental  panorama  and  among  them 
was  his  love  for  her  child.  Then  there  came  that 
sweet  relaxation  of  the  stress  of  struggle  to  shoul- 
ders made  stronger  to  bear  it.  "Vir,"  she  softly 
said,  "I  will." 

Just  two  words.  Just  the  sweetest  words  which 
ever  fell  on  Vir  Noble's  ears.  Just  the  crown  put 
on  his  life's  struggle.  Just  giving  to  him  the  woman 
of  all  women,  the  most  priceless  gift  that  Almighty 
God  could  give.  That  was  all.  Ah,  yes,  that  was 
all.  "I  will."  Oh,  hallowed  words,  sacred  hour.  As 


240     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

those  two  words  fell  on  his  listening  ears,  as  he  heard 
the  words  for  which  his  very  soul  had  yearned  for  all 
those  long  drawn  out  months  his  emotions  swept 
through  him  with  overwhelming  force. 

With  a  glad  cry  of  rapturous  joy  Vir  threw  his 
arms  around  her  and  drew  her  to  his  breast.  He 
couldn't  help  it  but  the  tears  came.  And  he  was 
not  ashamed.  And  the  precious  face  was  lifted  to 
him  and  he  kissed  her  and  kissed  her.  "Oh,  girlie! 
girlie!"  he  cried.  And  he  could  say  nothing  else 
just  then,  for  he  was  too  full  of  emotion  to  frame  it 
into  speech. 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  and  they  went  into 
the  parlor  and  sat  down  on  the  floor  near  the  cheer- 
ful open  fire.  They  did  those  irrelevant  acts  which 
happen  at  those  times  for  both  were  overrun  with 
a  whirlwind  of  thoughts.  "Oh,  girlie !  girlie !"  he  ex- 
claimed again  and  drew  her,  oh,  so  close  to  him.  "Oh, 
I'm  so  happy,  so  happy!  God  bless  you,  dear!  I 
don't  deserve  it !  But,  by  the  Eternal,  my  every  ef- 
fort will  be  to  more  and  more  deserve  it !  Oh,  Dunora, 
I  love  you  so  that  I  can  never,  never  express  it! 
Words  would  fail  me!"  The  dear  girl  looked  into 
his  face  with,  for  the  first  time,  a  look  of  utter  de- 
pendence and  said,  "Vir,  dear,  I  am  giving  you  my 
all.  I  wouldn't  if  I  had  not  known  that  I  could 
trust  you.  You  are  the  only  man  I  ever  knew  whom 
I  would  trust." 

He  attempted  to  speak  again  but  she  put  her 
hand  over  his  lips  and  said,  "Nothing  more  on  that 
subject  now,  dear.  You  know  actions  speak  louder 
than  words  and  we  do  not  want  too  much  sentiment 
at  once.  Let's  sit  right  here  before  this  open  fire 
and  plan  ahead  a  little."  "And  the  first  thing  to 


HOME  241 

plan  about  is  our  wedding.  When  will  we  be  mar- 
ried?" broke  in  Vir.  "Oh,  you  great  big  boy!" 
laughed  the  girl,  "there  you  go  blundering  the  first 
thing.  There  are  lots  of  things  to  think  of  beside 
thinking  of  our  wedding.  Here  is  our  home.  We 
must  think  of  that.  It  is  entirely  bare  and  must  be 
furnished  with  rugs,  furniture  for  kitchen,  dining 
room,  parlor,  hall  and  bedrooms  beside  table  ware, 
cooking  utensils,  coal,  towels,  bed  linen  and  a  lot 
of  other  articles  I  don't  think  of  now.  And  then 
there  are  the  running  expenses  which  are  not  small. 
Now  how  about  the  wedding?"  And  she  laughed. 
"To-morrow  at  nine  in  the  forenoon,"  affirmed  Vir. 

"Why  not  make  it  two  hours  from  now?"  she  re- 
joined with  a  smile.  "My  dear,  you  are  a  little  sud- 
den. You  know  it  is  the  lady's  prerogative  to  name 
the  date."  "And  your  rights  shall  not  be  trespassed 
upon,"  Vir  declared.  Sitting  there,  she  resting  her 
head  upon  his  breast,  they  planned  what  kind  of 
furniture  they  wanted  for  the  different  rooms  and 
Vir  found  that  her  ideas  singularly  fitted  into  his 
own.  To  think  that  at  last  his  dream  had  become 
a  reality,  that  this  wonder  woman,  this  moral  hero- 
ine, this  self-reliant,  successful  fighter  for  principle 
was  to  become  his  wife  and  that  that  cosy  roof  was 
to  shield  them  from  the  storms  without  and  was  to 
be  their  home. 

In  both  instances  it  was  to  be  the  first  real  home 
that  had  ever  spread  its  roof  over  either  one  of  their 
heads.  In  their  happiness  before  the  open  fire  they 
forgot  their  physical  needs  until  the  hour  grew  late 
in.  the  afternoon.  "Dearie,  let  us  go  to  Lynn  and 
have  a  dinner  worthy  of  the  occasion."  And  the 
dinner  that  followed  was  made  worthy  by  happiness. 


242      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

The  next  day  while  Vir  was  at  work  Dunora 
selected  the  furniture  for  the  home.  He  had  some 
furniture  stored  and  so  did  she,  but  they  desired 
nothing  in  any  way  to  remind  them  of  the  old  and 
so  bought  entirely  new.  And  shortly  thereafter  the 
furniture  was  moved  into  the  little  home,  and,  upon 
Dunora's  invitation,  Vir  went  out  and  saw  it  as  she 
had  arranged  it.  What  a  difference  between  that 
bare  house  before  and  the  warmed  and  furnished 
home  then! 

As  they  sat  on  the  soft  cushioned  couch  Dunora 
said,  "Vir,  dear,  I  have  a  pleasant  surprise  for  you?" 
"What  is  it,  sweetheart?"  "I  have  set  the  date  for 
our  marriage." 

"Joy!  Joy!"  exclaimed  Vir.  And  right  there  they 
talked  and  planned  in  a  way  not  to  be  made  public. 
No  prying  eye  or  listening  ear  should  profane  the 
sanctity  of  the  thoughts  of  these  two. 

Quietly,  amid  beautiful  natural  surroundings,  re- 
moved from  the  tawdry  glare  of  foppish  show,  they 
were  married. 

They  returned  to  open  the  now  trebly  valuable 
home  and  start  life  together  determined  to  live  lives 
that  should  be  worth  while  and  to  seek  happiness 
from  its  only  source. 

Several  weeks  of  great  happiness  went  by.  Each 
morning  Vir  went  to  his  labors  after  kissing  the  wife 
of  his  heart  and  waving  his  hand  to  her  as  he  turned 
the  corner  where  he  took  the  car.  Each  night  she 
was  waiting  at  the  window  to  see  him  come  across 
the  field.  What  a  bright  reward  to  his  day's  toil  to 
see  that  shining  face  at  the  window  when  he  turned 
the  corner.  Dear,  faithful  wife,  working  through 
the  long  hours  of  the  day  that  everything  might  be 


HOME  243 

warm  and  homelike  and  the  dinner  might  be  the  best 
possible  when  her  husband  came  from  his  work  at 
night. 

Vir's  business  had  paid  him  but  poorly  some 
months  previous  to  this  and  in  the  prosperity  which 
followed  he  had  wisely  put  aside  a  little  sum  for  use 
in  a  possible  rainy  day.  They  had  not  been  married 
long  before  that  rainy  day  unexpectedly  came.  De- 
spite Vir's  best  efforts  his  income  continued  to  de- 
crease and  then  decrease  more.  They  sat  up  nights 
talking  about  it  and  devising  ways  to  make  the  busi- 
ness at  least  increase  to  the  normal.  With  the 
energy  of  despair  Vir  worked  but  it  seemed  that  no 
one  wanted  what  he  had  to  sell. 

One  day  he  came  home  feeling  quite  discouraged 
over  the  outlook.  "Sweetheart,  my  best  efforts  seem 
to  be  of  little  avail.  I  have  been  working  faithfully. 
You  know  that.  But  it  has  come  to  this.  We  must 
draw  on  our  little  nest  egg  and  trust  to  hard  work 
and  a  change  of  fortune."  But  the  change  of  for- 
tune didn't  come  and  the  nest  egg  dwindled  and 
dwindled.  Finally  they  came  to  that  point  where 
they  cut  their  food  supply  and  then  cut  it  again. 
And  that  heroic  woman  never  murmured,  never  com- 
plained, never  said,  "I  told  you  so." 

What  different  food  she  had  eaten.  Only  in  her 
days  of  long  ago  had  she  been  brought  to  hunger, 
but  now  she  took  meat  from  the  daily  menu  and 
then  tea  and  toast  formed  the  breakfast.  Vir  was 
covered  with  shame,  but  his  shame  seemed  to  get  him 
deeper  into  the  depths.  Fate  seemed  to  will  thus  at 
that  time  and  it  brought  out  another  priceless 
quality  in  Dunora's  character.  Day  after  day, 
hour  after  hour  the  heroic  girl  listened  to  the  ticking 


244      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

of  that  brazen  voiced  clock  in  the  kitchen  counting 
off  the  hours  in  a  nearly  foodless  house.  And  in  all 
that  time  Vir  Noble  never  heard  a  word  of  com- 
plaint from  her.  Vir  suffered  cruelly  too,  but  he  was 
out  on  the  streets  where  the  edge  of  it  was  taken 
off,  not  alone  with  a  merciless  ticking  clock. 

Each  night  he  thought  he  could  bring  home  the 
needed  money,  but  day  after  day  passed  and  it  only 
came  in  driblets.  Dunora  could  have  run  a  charge 
account  at  a  grocer's  and  could  have  obtained  food 
to  be  paid  for  later  but  she  was  of  too  heroic  a  na- 
ture. She  would  not  contract  a  bill  till  she  saw 
ahead  the  means  of  paying  it.  Compare  this  with 
the  City  of  Dreadful  Debt,  New  York,  where  thou- 
sands dress  in  ermines,  ride  in  expensive  motor  cars, 
dine  at  costly  hotels  and  never  own  one  dollar's  worth 
of  what  they  use  and  are  never  sued  because  to  sue 
them  would  hurt  the  creditor's  business.  Compare 
this  with  those  who  mortgage  their  houses  and  leave 
the  grocers'  and  butchers'  bills  unpaid  that  they 
may  buy  automobiles  in  which  to  carry  their  worth- 
less persons.  And  then  build  a  monument  of  respect 
to  Dunora  who  asks  none. 

And  the  dear  wife's  faithfulness  was  rewarded,  for 
at  length  the  tide  turned,  good  fortune  came,  the 
money  came  in  and  she  had  won.  She  had  won 
more  than  she  thought  for  solemnly,  within  himself, 
Vir  Noble  had  taken  oath  that  even  outside  of  his 
marriage  vow  he  would  protect  that  woman  from 
even  a  suggestion  of  an  evil  wind  to  the  last  ounce 
of  strength  and  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  his  body. 

Even  after  their  marriage  Vir  saw  with  increas- 
ing anxiety  the  continuance  of  Dunora's  illness. 
Though  he  begged  her  to  remain  in  bed  in  the  morn- 


HOME  245 

ing  and  though  he  knew  it  would  almost  surely  be 
her  salvation  to  do  so,  he  never  could  induce  her  to 
remain  in  bed  much  after  daylight  for  her  previ- 
ously overwrought  nerves  would  not  permit  her  to 
lie  at  ease  at  all  during  daylight.  In  the  evening 
when  he  returned  from  work  the  greatest  present 
she  could  have  given  him  would  have  been  for  her 
to  have  told  him  that  she  had  rested  during  some 
part  of  the  day.  But  never  did  that  happy  word 
come. 

Instead  he  would  find  that  she  had  swept  every 
rug,  washed  every  hardwood  floor,  cleaned  the  cel- 
lar, dusted  the  house  from  top  to  bottom,  gotten 
out  the  silverware  and  polished  it  and  in  addition  to 
that  had  prepared  and  cooked  her  own  meals  and  a 
big  dinner  for  him.  Her  nerves  drove  her  onward. 

And  in  addition  to  this  she  seldom  retained  food 
long  after  she  had  eaten  it.  It  wrenched  the  very 
core  of  Vir  to  see  her  suffer  so,  but  in  this  he  could 
personally  do  little  beyond  removing  every  worry 
and  making  the  path  smooth.  He  hired  a  maid  for 
her  and  then  he  was  rejoiced  to  see  that  she  let  this 
maid  do  an  increasing  amount  of  the  work.  And 
he  also  observed  how  perfectly  Dunora  managed. 

Sick  as  she  was  and  especially  when  she  was  so 
nervously  ill,  Vir  could  readily  see  that  he  had  not 
fully  won  her  real  love.  Irene  she  loved  with  more 
than  a  mother's  devotion,  but  the  man  could  not  won- 
der that  under  the  conditions  her  bruised  heart  had 
not  entirely  healed.  And  he  steadfastly  endeavored 
to  find  ways  to  more  and  more  heal  those  old  wounds 
and  thereby  enable  her  to  put  out  the  love  he  knew 
was  in  her. 

She  was  utterly  unselfish  and  never  did  he  catch 


246      ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

her  in  a  thought  in  which  she  did  not  consider  him 
first.  If  she  bought  a  very  small  quantity  of  candy 
for  herself  when  she  was  out  she  always  brought 
home  half  to  Vir.  Even  if  she  desired  an  orange 
while  outdoors  she  always  bought  two  that  she 
might  bring  home  one  to  Vir. 

In  addition  to  this,  her  dainty  fingers,  never  quiet, 
would  engage  in  embroidery  and  crochet  work  and, 
in  the  evenings,  he  would  sit  for  a  long  time  and 
watch  her  deft  fingers  manipulate  the  needle  so  as 
to  produce  mysterious  beauties  of  lace.  What  a 
surpassingly  beautiful  contrast  to  the  life  he  had 
lived.  Is  there  any  political  office,  any  gift  within 
the  gift  of  men  which  brings  joy  like  this?  He  would 
not  have  exchanged  that  home  and  scene  for  the 
compounded  rewards  of  all  the  world. 

Yet  he  had  much  to  learn  of  women's  ways  and 
women's  hearts.  Virgil  knew  worldly  women  only 
when  he  wrote,  "Femina  semper  mutabile  est,"  for 
real  woman  is  not  changeable.  She  is  the  most 
steadfast  of  the  sexes.  Her  staunchness  is  superior 
to  man's.  But  in  her  moods  she  is  changeable. 
Moods  are  superficial.  Vir  had  yet  much  to  learn 
about  Dunora.  He  was  guilty  of  one  of  the  most 
blameworthy  sins,  that  of  thoughtlessness. 

Day  after  day  he  returned  home  to  find  his  faith- 
ful wife  awaiting  him.  But  at  moments  of  relaxa- 
tion he  would  observe  her  with  that  far  away  look  in 
her  eyes  and  on  one  or  two  occasions  as  she  sat  at 
the  table  with  him  she  would  faint  and  he  only  pre- 
served her  from  falling  by  catching  her  as  she  lost 
control  of  herself.  These  far  away  looks  and  faint- 
ing spells  she  explained  by  merely  saying,  "I  don't 
feel  well." 


HOME  247 

One  day  he  returned  home  and  found  the  house 
empty.     No  sign  of  Dunora  anywhere,  yet  on  the 
kitchen  table  was  a  note  characteristic  of  the  girl. 
"Dear- 
Had  to  go  to  Lynn.    Don't  worry.     Sweetheart." 

What  did  it  mean?  He  didn't  know.  At  first  he 
was  puzzled.  But  a  great,  gnawing  uncertainty,  a 
growing  of  fear  began  to  prey  upon  him. 

"Dear- 
Had  to  go  to  Lynn.     Don't  worry. 

Sweetheart." 

He  read  it  and  read  it  and  then  read  it.  Its  very 
uncertainty  and  indefiniteness  laughed  at  him.  It 
mocked  him,  derided  him,  struck  him.  What  did 
she  mean  by  doing  that?  He  hadn't  the  slightest 
idea.  He  read  it  again  and  tried  to  read  between 
the  lines,  but  its  few  words  admitted  of  no  subtle  in- 
terpretation. There  was  no  deriving  any  meaning 
from  them  than  that  conveyed  on  the  surface.  Just 
a  few  words,  yet  what  did  they  impart.  "Don't 
worry."  Those  two  words  had  ineffable  sweetness. 

Vir  knew  that  Dunora  fully  realized  how  he  was 
even  ill  at  ease  if  she  were  only  in  the  next  room, 
that  he  could  hardly  bear  her  out  of  his  sight.  She 
also  knew  how  fully  he  trusted  her  and  that  any  word 
from  her  was  taken  as  truth  itself  by  him.  There- 
fore she  knew  when  she  wrote  those  words,  "Don't 
worry,"  that  he  would  endeavor  not  to  worry  with  all 
the  power  of  endeavor  in  him.  Kindness  in  her  dic- 
tated those  two  words.  But  what  a  deep,  mysteri- 
ous being  she  was. 

Hour  after  hour  dragged  by  and  no  Dunora.    He 


248     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

began  to  pace  the  floor,  then  rush  from  the  kitchen 
through  the  dining  room  and  parlor  to  the  hall 
and  back  to  the  kitchen,  journeying  and  re  journey- 
ing over  that  circle.  Then  he  stood  at  some  one  of 
the  windows  as  each  half  hourly  car  came  and  looked 
with  longing  eyes  to  see  if  she  got  off  the  car.  But 
car  after  car  came  and  hour  after  hour  sped  and 
she  did  not  return.  Then  he  resumed  pacing  his 
rounds  with  his  breath  beginning  to  come  in  gasps. 
"Surely  she'll  come  soon!  Surely  she'll  come  soon!" 
he  kept  repeating  to  himself  in  excited  exclamation. 
But  she  didn't.  There  then  followed  more  pacing 
to  and  fro  while  he  had  wrung  from  him  the  words 
"Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!"  And  darkness  fell. 

Oh,  the  horrors  of  that  supperless,  sleepless  night ! 
Every  hour  was  a  year,  every  half  hourly  car  a  cata- 
clysm. Where  was  the  wife  of  his  heart?  Where 
was  his  very  soul,  the  earthly  expression  of  all  his 
best  with  her  superiority  superimposed  thereon?  Oh, 
why  would  not  the  All  Seeing  One  speak  and  tell 
him?  The  eye  of  the  Omnipotent  beheld  Dunora  at 
that  hour  and  why  not  Vir's  eyes  ?  But,  thank  God, 
there  came  to  the  distracted  mind  of  the  lover  hus- 
band the  words  which  Dunora  had  written — "Don't 
worry."  And  strange  and  terrible  as  the  season  was 
he  stubbornly  fought  worry.  The  night  ended  and 
the  day  came  and  it  brought  no  Dunora. 

Then  he  got  into  telephonic  communication  with 
Mrs.  Fuller  and  told  her  what  had  happened.  She 
was  much  astonished  but  also  told  him  not  to  worry. 
She  told  him  she  would  go  to  all  Dunora's  friends 
whom  she  knew  and  try  to  find  her.  They  agreed  to 
meet  that  evening  when  she  would  report  the  result 
of  her  search. 


HOME  249 

They  met  in  the  evening  and  Mrs.  Fuller  had 
found  no  trace  of  Dunora.  Nevertheless  she  re- 
peated her  advice  to  Vir  not  to  worry,  but  worry 
he  did.  Day  after  day  came  and  went,  the  first  week 
passed  while  Vir  suffered  inhumanly.  Gray  hairs 
appeared  on  his  head  for  the  first  time  in  his  life. 
The  second  week  began  and  ended.  Vir  was  all  but 
beside  himself. 

At  the  very  end  of  the  second  week  Vir  went  into 
his  office  a  sadder  and  thinner  man.  The  telephone 
rang  and  listlessly  he  picked  up  the  receiver.  He 
heard  Mrs.  Fuller's  voice  and  her  words  took  the 
very  breath  from  his  body.  "Come  out  to  Everett 
quickly  to  my  house.  Dunora  is  here  and  wants  you. 
Don't  be  surprised  if  she  doesn't  look  well,  for  she 
has  been  in  a  hospital." 

Vir  hung  up  the  receiver  with  a  slam  and  rushed 
for  a  means  of  conveyance  in  which  to  proceed  to 
Everett  in  the  quickest  time  possible.  He  reached 
the  house,  flung  open  the  door,  rushed  within  and 
there  sat  Dunora. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 

LOVE  RULES 

rpHERE  sat  Dunora!  The  feeling  which  went 
A  over  Vir  was  such  as  he  had  never  experienced 
before  in  his  entire  life.  A  flood  of  questions  came 
to  his  mind.  A  cloud  of  mist  rolled  its  convolutions 
before  his  eyes  but  he  brushed  it  aside.  Dunora  sat 
not  in  the  parlor  where  they  had  met  the  first  time 
in  that  house  but  she  was  in  a  chair  in  the  dining 
room.  And  Vir's  heart  felt  a  great  pressure  of  pain 
as  he  saw  how  pale  his  dear  wife  was. 

He  rushed  to  her  side,  fell  upon  his  knees. 
"Dunora — Dunora,  I  don't  ask  where  you  have  been, 
I  trust  you  too  much  for  that,  but  why  did  you  leave 
me,  girlie?  It  almost  killed  me,  I  have  been  crazed 
with  fear  for  you.  You  are  not  well,  tell  me  why 
you  went." 

Dunora  looked  at  him,  her  blue  eyes  sparkling 
with  the  fire  of  suppressed  feeling  and  pain.  Her 
mouth  opened  and  all  the  walls  of  restraint  broke 
down.  "Vir,  how  can  I  love  you?  You  think  you 
are  almost  perfect,  that  you  have  no  faults.  You 
are  conceited,  I  hate  it.  You  are  not  a  gentleman, 
you  have  no  manners,  you  don't  know  how  to  eat 
properly.  You  are  the  most  selfish  man  I  ever 
knew.  When  I  do  nice  things  for  you,  you  only 
take  them  for  granted  as  calmly  as  though  I  should 

250 


LOVE  RULES  251 

do  them.  Perhaps  I  should  do  them,  but  I  would 
like  sometimes  to  know  you  liked  them.  At  times  I 
despised  you  for  all  these  acts.  Being  so  very 
sensitive  they  hurt  much.  I  couldn't  endure  those 
hurts  any  longer  so  ran  away  to  a  hospital  where  I 
could  rest  and  think."  And  then  the  tears  came. 
How  tears  sometimes  carry  away  our  sorrows  with 
them. 

For  the  first  time  since  the  girl  began  to  speak 
she  looked  directly  at  her  husband.  He  was  looking 
into  her  face  with  a  look  of  surprised  horror  upon 
his  face.  Her  eyes  strayed  over  him  and  they  rested 
upon  the  top  of  his  head.  What  did  they  see — gray 
hairs?  Surely  not,  Vir's  hair  was  almost  black. 
But,  yes,  they  were  gray  hairs.  Then  her  eyes  looked 
more  closely  at  his  face.  Oh,  the  lines  of  pain  there. 
A  tender  look  came  into  those  eyes  now.  Vir  saw 
and  fell  to  the  floor  with  a  half  dry  sob. 

She  knelt  on  the  floor  beside  him,  put  her  hand 
that  he  loved  so  well,  upon  those  gray  hairs,  and 
the  man  knew  he  was  forgiven  all  his  faults.  He 
also  knew  that  now  this  woman  truly  loved  him, 
loved  him  when  he  had  looked  so  very  black  to  her. 
Yes,  that  was  surely  love. 

Vir  arose  and  drew  Dunora  into  his  arms.  "Dear, 
I  never  knew.  No  one  ever  told  me  before.  Can 
you  ever  forgive?"  He  waited  to  hear  her  say 
"Yes."  She  did.  "Dunora  girlie,  never  will  you 
find  any  more  such  terrible  mistakes  in  my  be- 
havior again.  My  whole  life  shall  be  spent  trying 
to  make  amends  for  those  horrible  weeks  you  lived 
through  and  trying  to  make  you  happy.  I  will  not 
ask  you  to  come  home  until  I  have  overcome  my 
faults.  And  then  you  will  come,  will  you  not,  dear?'* 


252     ONE  WONDERFUL  ROSE 

"My  husband,  we  are  going  home  now  this  very 
moment.  You  overcame  your  largest  fault  when 
you  admitted  you  had  faults.  Maybe  they  were  not 
really  so  bad  as  I  thought  them.  Anyway,  I  love 
you,  I  am  sure  of  that  now,  so  I  want  you  anyway. 
Come !" 

The  man  kissed  her  with  a  rapture  with  which 
he  had  never  kissed  her  before.  He  saw  a  light  as 
of  heaven  come  upon  that  dear  face  that  had  seen 
so  many  trials.  He  knew  love  had  won  and  it  seemed 
as  though  great  weights  had  fallen  from  him.  Only 
the  gray  hairs  remained  the  witness  to  what  he  had 
suffered  without  his  beacon. 

Ah,  little  cot  in  Boston's  suburbs,  what  a  new 
glamor  now  haloes  you !  Two  people  now  enter  your 
welcoming  doors,  two  people  who  have  fought  a  good 
fight  and  have  won  the  great  prize  of  love  enduring! 
Two  happy  hearts  now  seek  safe  anchorage  after 
they  have  been  long  tossed  on  the  angry  billows 
of  the  ocean  of  human  existence.  And  over  this  nest 
these  two  seek  the  blessing  of  Him  who  has  promised 
that  bye  and  bye  "every  man  shall  sit  under  his  own 
vine  and  fig  tree  and  none  shall  molest." 

And  over  that  little  cot  the  seasons  roll  their 
ripening  harvests.  The  summer  in  all  its  passion  of 
blood  arrives  and  blesses  hill  and  dale,  field  and 
forest.  The  joyous  birds  sing  love  from  twig  and 
bough,  the  gaily  feathered  swallows  twitter  and  sail 
in  heaven's  blue  canopy. 

Then  the  Autumn  arrives  with  its  cheering,  fire- 
side days,  its  riot  of  color  on  the  trees,  its  nutty 
flavor  on  the  breeze.  The  harvests  find  safe  refuge 
in  the  barns  and  all  nature  gathers  her  children  un- 
der the  protection  of  her  ample  and  motherly  wings 


LOVE  RULES  253 

and  safely  snuggles  them  in  warm  home  and  harbor 
against  the  approaching  season. 

And  then  Mother  Earth  is  reclothed.  Her  dress 
of  green  in  the  summer  has  changed  to  the  soberer 
brown  of  the  Autumn.  Yet  her  suit  of  brown  soon 
changes  to  robes  of  spotless  white.  And  as  the 
purity  of  God's  own  love  clothes  in  symbol  field  and 
forest,  the  New  Year  is  born.  The  New  Year?  Yes. 
And  also,  while  the  echo  of  the  bells  of  New  Year's 
gladness  was  yet  reverberating  down  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven,  there  came  to  the  two  in  the  cot  of  love 
a  greater  gladness  in  the  form  of  another  Vir,  a  tiny, 
helpless  gift  from  God,  a  little  Vir. 


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